


Things Unknown

by Spoon888



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Touching, Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Arranged Marriage, Blow Jobs, Breeding Kink, Courting Rituals, Cultural Differences, Deepthroating, Drabble Collection, Dubious Consent, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mech Preg, Mentioned Seal Breaking, Misunderstandings, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, One Shot Collection, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Transformer Sparklings, Voyeurism, inappropriate thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-02-23 00:20:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23002732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoon888/pseuds/Spoon888
Summary: A collection of fics exploring the relationship between a volatile warlord and an unassuming seeker. In other words, raunchy Megatron/Thundercracker one-shots to soothe the soul.
Relationships: Megatron/Thundercracker (Transformers)
Comments: 288
Kudos: 443





	1. Excess Charge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bloodsugar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodsugar/gifts).



Seekers comprised nearly half of Megatron's entire faction. Not only did they consume a greater amount of fuel and supplies than the rest of the collective forces put together, but they were high-maintenance, fickle, prone to infighting, and housed enough inherent psychological issues to warrant putting every last one of them on medical leave for the foreseeable future. And he would- had that not meant losing his entire airforce.

Despite these issues, they seemed to cope well enough with day-to-day life on Earth. So long as they were adequately fuelled, had access to the sky, and were able to burn off any excess charge, all was (relatively) well in the barracks. To put it simply; fuel, flights, and frags were the keys to happy, obedient fliers.

And Megatron knew this because among his countless other monitoring and surveillance duties, Soundwave was tasked with keeping an optic on such activities. Megatron would much rather have him keep an invasively close optic on the seekers than have a problem take him by surprise in the middle of a raid, or during a tussle with the Autobots.

So it came to his attention rather quickly when a discord threw his Command Trine into disarray one afternoon. Megatron was well versed in their petty squabbles. Starscream was impossible to get along with and Skywarp was a natural bully, so it was no surprise when they fell out of the sky mid-manoeuvre, trying to yank one anothers wings off. What _was_ a surprise was when the glue that was supposed to be holding them together, level-headed Thundercracker, fell with them, and appeared to be exaggerating the situation.

Megatron stamped his way out of the tower after being called up to the surface. The midday sun stung his optics and he had to shield them to properly take in the pile of armour and wings clawing and hissing and killing one another. He thrust his fist into the fray and hauled one of them up out of the pileup. The blue wing he held was attached to an unexpectedly furious Thundercracker, who then dared to snarl at him and swipe. Megatron flinched back but claws nicked the bridge of the nose, slicing derma plating.

With anger burning in his chest he thrust Thundercracker back and bellowed. "Enough!"

Thundercracker fell onto his aft on the tower roof with a sharp clunk, and at Megatron's feet Skywarp and Starscream hastily untangled themselves. As soon as his arm was free, Skywarp thrust a condemning finger in Thundercracker's direction, "He started-!"

"Grounded." Megatron barked before excuses could fly, "All three of you are on ground duty and banned from manoeuvres!"

The three seekers glared at him mutinously, their scratched, abused wings hanging limply on their backs. When they failed to explain or apologise for their disgraceful behaviour Megatron pointed to the tower entrance. "Get out of my sight before I have you thrown into a _real_ fighting pit."

Skywarp and Thundercracker trudged angrily past him, knocking shoulders and pushing one another behind his back. When Starscream made to follow them Megatron snagged him by the wing and tugged him back. Starscream immediately cringed into a cowering fool, "No, not my wing-!"

"Don't start, Starscream," Megatron held him steady. "What on Cybertron is going on?"

As far as he had been aware there had been no major Starscream Vs Skywarp incidents this week. For them to then fall out in the middle for their favourite hour of the day was unusual. Flight manoeuvres where when trine's were at their most harmonious.

Realising he wasn't about to experience an wing-amputation, Starscream discarded his faux-cowering and straightened up, folding his arms casually, now the picture of ease. "How should I know."

"It is your duty to know," Megatron growled.

Starscream scoffed. "Ask _Thundercracker_."

Megatron didn't expect to hear that. Thundercracker was a non-problem as far as he was aware. Thundercracker _stopped_ fights. He didn't start them. He was the closest Megatron had to a 'good' solider. His mood sank further.

"So you've been leading him astray too."

"I haven't led him anywhere," Starscream defended himself snottily. "You think he listens to me?!"

"Seeing as you're his _Commanding Officer_ , Starscream, I should hope so."

"Well I don't know what's gotten into him."

Seeing as Starscream was useless -as always- Megatron dismissed him with a scoff and a wave. Starscream passed him with a sassy wing flick, muttering under his breath about how he was always blamed for everything around here. Megatron chose to pretend he hadn't heard him to avoid dragging out a confrontation that could only end in one or both of them taking a dunk in the ocean below.

One seeker of his Command Trine already appeared to be malfunctioning, he didn't need to add a water-lodged Starscream to the mix too.

* * *

The mecha who held the answer to the Thundercracker Problem was the mecha who held the answers to everything. Soundwave barely needed a beat to think before bringing up potential reasonings for Thundercracker's sudden and uncharacteristic attitude problem.

"He's running on a high charge?" Megatron read the report.

Soundwave nodded sharply.

Megatron leant back, the problem becoming suddenly, and _awkwardly_ , clear.

Seekers guzzled energon, but with so much energy to burn off regular flying could only do so much, and to perform to the best of their abilities, seekers needed clear, calm processors. It had become apparent, through Soundwave's surveillance network, that the cause of his Command Trine's fight the previous day was Thundercracker taking an erratic flight path, messing up his manoeuvres, and then barrel rolling right into Starscream's left wing.

The short answer to this was simple. Thundercracker needed a good hard frag to dispel the building charge that was putting him in such a bad mood. This wasn't something Megatron usually had to get involved in. 

He lowered the report and levelled a glare at Stsrscream, who had also been summoned to the meeting. He was sitting opposite Megatron with a bored expression on his face, tapping his claws against the top of the table. Megatron dropped the data-pad to the table and slid Soundwave's findings across to him. "You need to _attend_ to your trine-mate."

Starscream didn't bother reading it. He pushed it right back with a sneer like he was touching something unpleasant. "Yes, like I haven't tried that already."

Megatron slapped his hand to the data-pad when it came sliding back to stop it toppling off the table. "Try harder."

"He doesn't _want_ to be touched," Starscream glared. "Not just by me and Skywarp. By anyone. He's a stuck up prude. Thinks he's too good for us."

A seeker being a prude went against everything Megatron understood about seekers. And Thundercracker thinking he was too good for his trine simply defied the natural order of a trineship. "I find it hard to believe he woke up one cycle and decided he never wanted intimacy from his trine again."

Starscream shrugged, moving to stand, "Then maybe someone outside of the trine should try."

Starscream left in a typical huff, but in the wake of his words, an idea came to mind. Soundwave emitted a weary sounding sigh, and Megatron smirked as the idea turned into a full blown plot.

Maybe it _was_ time someone outside the trine tried.

* * *

Thundercracker wasn't in the mood for company, but neither was he in the mood for sitting in the stale, dim air barracks on his own.

He was going to start wearing down the safety grip overlay on the decking if he didn't stop pacing - but if he stopped moving his frame, then his processor might start running away with itself again and working him up into an even worse mood - and if that bad mood got him into one more fight Starscream was going to 'Bring it to Megatron's attention' and he had _already_ in disgrace with his commander - and when Megatron ran out of legitimate punishments to threaten someone with he tended to go down less _conventional_ routes -like beating the scrap out of dissidents - but as keyed up and rearing for a fight as Thundercracker _was_ he wasn't about to throw hands with a former gladiator twice his weight and three times as armed over something as petty as having a bad day!

And, as if worrying about all these potential scenarios was what made them come about, Thundercracker's comm-link pinged with a summons.

His spark began to quicken.

With his pumps already chugging away at the speed of a freight train, Thundercracker was sure the pressure in his lines was about to blow when he glanced at the sender of the message. Megatron.

His fear was immediately displaced by anger. This must have been Starscream's doing, vengeance for his disobedience and what had been assuming to be intimate rejection.

That anger was still coursing through his lines when Thundercracker marched up to Megatron's office. He was so irritated by the events that had led up to getting penalised like this that he forgot to fear what the consequences of being summoned by Megatron actually where and barged into the decadently spacious room without so much as a knock.

Megatron looked up in surprise at the sudden entrance.

"What?" Thundercracker snapped, forgetting to use an even, polite tone. Or a formal term of address. He didn't bother to correct himself.

Megatron's brow cocked and he rose from behind his desk. His shoulder's were the same width as it, and his improbable size only served to annoy Thundercracker further.

"Ah, Thundercracker, thank you for showing up here unannounced."

"You summoned me," Thundercracker snapped divisively, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible.

His optics narrowed further when he saw how Megatron was hiding a smirk. The larger mech cleared his vocaliser and moved around the desk. "My summons was intended for this evening."

Thundercracker belatedly realised he should have actually read the message before jumping to conclusions and barging down here. Still, he couldn't quite find it in himself to sheepishly apologise. He was sick of being pushed around, of everyone making demands of him, of this stupid, dysfunctional fraction, of everything.

"Very well," the desk behind Megatron creaked when he sat back on it casually. "We shall do this now. What's gotten into you, Thundercracker?"

Thundercracker blinked, not expecting this. Megatron was one to shout and punch first, and ask questions never. He tried to steady himself, push down some of his simmering emotions and think more clearly. It was difficult to do when his charge was running so high and it had no where to go with him forced to stand in place before Megatron like this. He shifted his footing, desperate to ...to do _something_. "I ...nothing. Sir."

Megatron's brow quirked higher. "You appear uncomfortable."

Thundercracker's brow drew down. "Yes."

Megatron looked him up and down slowly before changing tact. "It's come to my attention that you've sent your trine into disarray."

Thundercracker's shortening temper flared. "I've sent _them_ into disarray?!" He repeated, much louder than he had intended. "What a joke!"

"Thundercracker," Megatron said sternly.

"After all the scrap I have to put up with from them," Thundercracker ignored him. "And I have _one_ bad day and all of a sudden _I'm_ the problem?!"

"A bad week," Megatron countered. "Likely because you've been neglecting certain ...maintenance?"

Thundercracker froze at Megatron's tone. "...I'm perfectly functional."

"You've running on an excessive amount of charge," Megatron noted, looking down his large hooked olfactory at him. "You're at risk of something shorting out-"

"Well it's hard to burn off charge when I'm grounded from flying," Thundercracker snapped resentfully.

"It's not that sort of charge though, is it, Thundercracker?"

Thundercracker folded his arms and glared, but it was difficult to really put feeling behind it when he kept shuffling back and forth, charge crackling just under the surface, his fuel lines full of liquid fire. "...How do you know that?"

Megatron lifted his shoulders, "I have my ways."

Spying, Thundercracker assumed he meant. And if Megatron knew he hadn't gotten laid in quite some time, that meant his commander must also have a pretty good idea when seekers _were_ getting laid.

"Is that why you called me in here?" He demanded, confrontational. "To help me _burn off_ the charge?"

Megatron was unaffected by his judgmental tone. "It was what I intended to offer. You're free to decline, but this problem does need to be addressed. Perhaps you ought to make amends with your trine and let _them_ take care of this?"

Thundercracker was in no mood to tolerate Starscream and Skywarp today, but what was his alternative, Megatron? He shifted again, trying to ignore growing warmth between his hips. He couldn't deny he hadn't thought about it. Megatron's ruthless ambition and ego were likely to make him a legendary lay, but at the same time, Thundercracker wasn't in the most accommodating of moods, and he wasn't sure how Megatron would react to something so rough from a seeker.

"...I have a lot of charge to burn off," he warned.

Megatron lifted his chin. "Nothing I can't handle."

Thundercracker certainly hoped so.

With a wordless glance, they collided with a clang of armour, Thundercracker's pedes leaving the floor as one of Megatron's massive arms folded around the small of his back. Megatron's self-assured, smug EM field flared out and brushed Thundercracker's own prickling, unwelcoming one and irked by it, Thundercracker hissed, sinking his claws into the arm Megatron had about him.

His leader grunted but otherwise seemed unbothered by the sting, swinging him around and tossing him at the desk. Thundercracker fell back across it, wincing when something dug into his back. Megatron's chest was above him the next second and Thundercracker shoved the heels of his hands against the hard, unrelenting wall of armour, his urges a mess as he couldn't figure out if he wanted Megatron close or wanted him to get away.

Part of him needed desperately to be possessed and owned, but the overwhelming charge surging through him had made him too sensitive and irritable. Every touch and sensation was an annoyance. Megatron's scent and presence closing in on him, his humid breath against his audial, the heat of his armour knocking against Thundercracker's. He sated the urge to hurt something by digging his fingers into the armour seams on Megatron's back and extending his claws. Paint curled under his claws as he began to drag them down. Megatron arched against him with a grunt before taking one of Thundercracker's wrists and slamming it back against the surface of the desk.

"You're long overdue this," Megatron hissed, his jaw set tightly as he worked his hips between Thundercracker's legs and rocked their panels together.

The sensation sent a burst of pleasure shooting up Thundercracker's spine and he stilled, his vents stalling in surprise. Megatron took advantage of the moment to take hold of his wings, his thumbs sliding across the flaps in just the right place. Thundercracker arched with a muffled noise of want.

"There's a good seeker," Megatron praised his now compliant partner, voice low and soothingly intimidate. Thundercracker's chest fluttered at his indulgent tone. "Doesn't that feel better?"

Thundercracker's cheeks burned. He was too prideful to answer such a patronising question but desperate enough not to push Megatron away. Next he knew he was being flipped over into his front. He gripped the edge of Megatron's desk and stretched out his legs so his toe pedes could graze the floor. Megatron leaned over him, his weight resting over his wings. Thundercracker curved his spine so his aft pushed back against Megatron's hips and he could rub himself against the hot armour sheilding his leader's codpiece.

Megatron squeezed a handful of his aft, his thumb swiping over the panel for his valve. The pressure manually unclipped it and the panel slotted back to reveal Thundercracker's array. The thumb pushed into him and his toes lifted off the floor as he whined.

Megatron began pumping his thumb in and out, murmuring some nonsense about taking care of him and Thundercracker let his optics flutter shut. He was fingered open carefully, digits thick and skilled. With every stroke of digits through his valve, tension melted from his frame. His armour began to loosen, his joints relaxed, and before long he was a molten puddle of iron spreading across Megatron's desk, weak and unprotesting when the blunt head of a spike began to spread him open.

"That's what you needed, isn't it?" Megatron whispered, sliding into his shivering frame slowly. A hand ran up and down his back, between his wings. Thundercracker nodded, his cheek squashed to the desk.

"Megatron," he whined.

Megatron fondled a wing tip and began to move in and out, shallow and slow at first, before picking up speed and force. Thundercracker soon had to grip the desk tighter to stop himself from being shunted off the other end. Every shove sent the charge that had once been choking his frame shooting to a pool of pressure below in his tanks, waiting to be released, building him towards climax.

Given that had hadn't interfaced in a full week, he tipped over into an overload fairly quickly, but intensely, so hard it hurt, his optics whiting out and his motor functions twitching. Megatron kept going, riding him through it, and Thundercracker had barely recovered from the first before he felt the second approaching.

He lifted his helm from the desk and tilted it back to give voice to his growing cries when Megatron leaned in and bit the side of his neck with a growl. Thundercracker's vocaliser cut off and he was gasping silently, overloading for a second time, this time to the rush of Megatron's spike emptying deep into him.

Helm too heavy to keep up, it fell to the desk with a thunk. Behind him, Megatron was still catching his breath, his hips rocking back and forth minutely as he began to ease himself out. Thundercracker's leg twitched when he felt a trickle of fluid escape him. He wanted to roll over and clean himself up, preserve his dignity, but felt far too weak to do so. It was far from appropriate for him to be laying across his leader's desk like this...

Which reminded him of how _rude_ he had been before. Primus, he'd be lucky if he wasn't put on monitor duty for the next _millennia_.

He lifted his head and blinked rapidly, suddenly nervous. He searched behind himself for Megatron and found his leader stepping away to tuck himself back behind his panel.

He swallowed when their gazes met. "I- I'm- I don't know what got into me, I-"

Megatron lifted a hand to stop him. "I am more than used to argumentative seekers."

Thundercracker still felt guilty. "Sorry I scratched up your back."

Megatron blinked, then glanced over his shoulder like he'd had forgotten the scratches were even there. He smirked when he spotted them. "A fair price to pay," he said, then winked at Thundercracker. Thundercracker felt a surge of charge return to his frame at his leader's easy charm. "Don't hesitate to come to me again if you're experiencing any more ...problems."

Thundercracker felt giddy and foolish when he gingerly rolled off of Megatron's desk. When he stood he subtly pressed his thighs together to hide the mess lingering there. "I... Yeah. I'd like that."

Before he could leave for the door, Megatron's hand on his wing stopped him. Thundercracker shuddered at his touch and turned on his heel to face him again. Megatron smirked and leaned in slowly to kiss his cheek.

Thundercracker turned his head at the last minute and captured his lips instead. Megatron didn't hesitate before deepening the kiss with a hum of amusement at his boldness. 

Which was fine by Thundercracker. He still had _plenty_ of charge left that needed burning off.


	2. Breeding

Compassion and patience weren't in the vernacular of the average Decepticon. Thundercracker was aware how unique he was in that he didn't see such behaviours as weak and undesirable, nor care that others were critical of him for displaying them so openly. It wasn't even like he was the base's resident Den-Mother (a position held, however unwillingly, by Soundwave). By Decepticon standards he was considered compassionate only because he didn't routinely laugh when someone's arm was shot off mid-battle.

He did admittedly trail around after Skywarp a lot though, but that was necessity that had become habit, not a choice he consciously made. Did everyone really think he _liked_ rushing around after his trine-mates, acting like their personal servant/therapist/minder, defusing their arguments and repairing their dents and cleaning up after their catastrophic schemes?

...Okay, so maybe part of him did enjoy it, but that by no means meant he was some soft-sparked, organic loving, wuss. And he'd punch anyone who said otherwise hard enough to knock their optics out.

"Here," he muttered tonelessly, retrieving the blowtorch from the top shelve of the repair bay and handing it to a grateful Rumble. The troublesome twins broke into grins, their devious intentions obvious.

"Thanks, Thunder'," Frenzy snatched the blowtorch off his brother and twirled it like a baton.

"You're not going to prank someone with that, are you?" Thundercracker asked, leaning back and folding his arms, knowing full well they had every intention of using that blowtorch for anything but regulation use.

The twins flashed him innocent smiles. "Just a couple repairs," said Rumble.

"But hey, if we do happen to come across Screamer-" Frenzy was cut off by his brother's elbow jabbing him in the side. "I mean, yeah, just repairs."

"Just keep it tame," Thundercracker waved them off with a sigh, watching them race out of the repair bay with uncontainable glee. So what if they did weld something to Starscream's aft again. His trine-leader needed a good pranking every now and then. It kept him from choking on his own ego.

"Thundercracker."

Thundecracker jumped, having assumed he was now alone in the repair bay.

Megatron lingered in the doorway of the second entrance, an unreadable and somewhat constipated look on his face. Thundercracker immediately assumed something was wrong with him -given that he had never made a habit of inspecting the medbay, he must have been injured.

His spark lurched and he took a step towards him. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Megatron confirmed after a brief pause. "I merely..." He trailed off, losing his train of thought. "Do you regularly encourage the cassettes's destructive impulses?"

There wasn't a whole lot of reprimand to Megatron's tone, so Thundercracker shrugged, "They're going to destroy something. Thought I'd steer them in a manageable direction."

Megatron nodded understandingly, "You are free this evening?"

Thundercracker had a double shift -monitor duty then pre-dawn patrol. "No, I have-"

"You are now," Megatron interrupted with a self assured smirk. "My quarters, 19 hundred."

Despite the frequency of such late night invitations from his leader, Thundercracker felt a flush overcome him. He nodded quickly, cheeks warming at how eager he must have looked. "Sure," he said breathlessly, "beats monitor duty."

Megatron gave him a look that implied his personal attention _of course_ held no comparison to Thundercracker's regular boring duties and left without another word. Thundercracker exhaled heavily, the buzz of excitement that would inevitably build up as the day got closer to the allotted time already starting to fill him.

It was odd that Megatron was in that sort of mood now though. Thundercracker usually received these less than professional invitations after a battle, or a particularly intense war council. Megatron was at his most fired up when he was, well, already 'fired up'. All that additional charge needed to go somewhere he supposed.

He headed down to the wash-racks. Now that his shift had been changed he'd have all evening to polish himself up and look at his best for Megatron.

* * *

Megatron still wasn't quite himself that evening. Thundercracker couldn't put his digit on it.

They stood kissing for a long time before they even spoke, Megatron's hands roaming his frame. They held his hips and stroked up his sides, cupped his chest and groped at the edges of his wings. Thundercracker's knees liquidated and he leaned in to the touches, unsure of what was causing Megatron's sudden interest in his frame as a whole, but grateful for it.

They broke for breath and Thundercracker breathed against wet lips, "Do you wanna fuel first or-"

"Later," Megatron grunted, steering him back towards the berth with hands firmly stuck to his hips.

The backs of Thundercracker's thighs hit the edge of the berth and he tumbled back onto it with a surprised noise. Megatron descended on him, dragging him across the covers so his aft hung over the edge of the berth. Megatron lifted Thundercracker's legs and wrapped them around his waist before laying over him and pressing him flat to the berth. Megatron was heavy and blocked some of Thundercracker's vents. He struggled to draw breath.

"Megatron," he moaned, tipping his head back to inhale and exposing his neck cabling for Megatron's next biting, kissing, sucking assault there. Pleasure shot down his spinal strut and began to pool in the pits of his tank, building an aching want between his hips. He squirmed, thighs tightening around Megatron's waist, before he released his modesty paneling.

Megatron growled against his throat, a noise Thundercracker knew meant he was pleased. He felt a thrill at knowing he was arousing his leader, and arched his back to better nudge his valve against Megatron's codpiece.

Megatron took a hand away from his hip and slipped it between their frames. Thundercracker sighed when thick fingers probed him, two slipping between his mesh opening and stroking his delicate folds. He was well lubricated and the penetration was an effortless glide. He undulated his hips into the gentle in and out movements.

Megatron said something.

"Hmm?" Thundercracker onlined optics he hadn't realised he'd offlined during the fingering. "What?"

"When did you last cycle?" Megatron murmured.

Thundercracker blinked, confused by the personal question but far too undone with pleasure to bother questioning why it was being asked. "I dunno," he said thickly, finding it hard to think with Megatron's fingers stroking and nudging his internal sensors. "Whenever 'Warp did..."

Megatron made a noise like that wasn't helpful, but if he really wanted to know when he had last gone through a heat, Thundercracker could always contact his trine afterwards. Their bond and close living proximity meant they cycled together, usually within hours of one another, and Starscream kept as thorough a record of his own mechanical functions as he did everything else.

"Recently?" Megatron pressed him for a more useful answer.

A frown creased Thundercracker's brow, "Not -not really..."

"Good," Megatron purred in that deep rumble, adding a third finger and rocking Thundercracker's world, "Very good."

He pulled his fingers free and left Thundercracker whining. He smoothed his hand up over Thundercracker's chassis, smearing the glass of his cockpit with wet fingers. "You're perfect for this."

Thundecracker nodded listlessly, urging his hips up again, wanting Megatron to take him, fill him, show him how perfect he was. Megatron rose, taking the weight of his colossal armour off Thundercracker to survey him better. Thundercracker laid back compliantly, optics half-shuttered, arms splayed above his head. Megatron's optics slowly drifted up and down his frame, lingering on his waist in particular. He stroked Thundercracker's side again, fixated on the curve where his cinched waist led to generous hip plating.

A firm pat to Thundercracker's thigh had him relaxing his legs from around Megatron's waist. He let them fall open, bent at the knees, displaying his valve for Megatron to see. Megatron's dark optics flicked down and took it in, the corner of his mouth twitching with a smirk that wanted to stretch across his lips. Thundercracker's chest brimmed with pride, and feeling somewhat naughty, he reached down and used his fingers to spread himself open. He felt a trickle of lubricant escape and track down his aft plating.

Megatron palmed his codpiece and a thick, silver spike emerged into his fist. He stroked his hand up and down the lengthening shaft, his expression growing more smug with every squeeze of his fist. The bio-lights embellishing the gaps between ridges pulsed a neon orange. When Megatron's fist reached the end of his spike his thumb swept over the slit. A bead of transfluid grew in it's wake.

Megatron crouched, bringing his spike level with Thundercracker's valve, and began to guide himself forwards. Thundercracker's fingers shook against his valve with anticipation. The tip nosed his inner folds. Thundercracker's valve clenched tightly when the blunt head pushed against his opening, but released when he exhaled. With a throaty groan Megatron rolled his hips and sank in a good third of his spike. Thundercracker hissed at the sudden pressure, and moaned loudly when Megatron drew back and pushed in again, this time hilting himself.

Megatron grabbed Thundercracker's legs and pushed them up and back until his thighs touched his chassis. Thundercracker fumbled to grab his legs behind the knees and hold himself open for Megatron. The angle opened him up and Megatron slipped deeper than he had thought possible. He twitched with a gasp, and Megatron braced his hands against his wings as he started to frag him.

He started slow, rolling his hips back and forth with deep, firm strokes. Thundercracker took it accommodatingly, watching Megatron's determined face twitch and flicker with pleasure. He squeezed down on Megatron as soon as he regained control of the callipers that had been shoved aside by his leader's swift penetration, clenching them rhythmically. Megatron faltered and made a breathless noise, before dropping to his forearms and reassuming with a much faster pace, drilling into Thundercracker with desperate abandon.

"Megatron!" He cried, vocaliser hitching, unused to such vigorous treatment.

Megatron slowed but didn't stop, his breath hot and humid against the side of Thundercracker's helm. "Perfect for this," he muttered, hand squeezing Thundercracker's side.

For fragging, Thundercracker assumed he meant. His helm rolled across the berth listlessly, giddy at the flattery. "Yeah," he said, encouraging more.

Megatron's hand swept over his side and cupped the bottom of his chassis, just below his cockpit. "You're not leaving this berth till you're sparked," he huffed gruffly.

The words took three full pumps of Megatron's spike to sink in. Thundercracker's optics flashed open. "Huh?"

"Pump you so full of transfluid you'll leak it for _hours_ ," Megatron hissed into his audial, speeding up again. "Till this tight little waist you seekers treasure so much is round and thick-"

Heat surged through Thundercracker's frame. He released his legs and flung his arms around Megatron instead, suddenly compelled to cling to him, encourage him. "Yes-" he gasped. "Yes, _please_ -"

Megatron snarled ferociously and started riding him again. Noises burst out of Thundercracker's vocaliser with every whoosh of Megatron's spike through his valve, the pleasure from every firm plunging stroke surprising him again and again, blasting him into an overload that made him howl.

Megatron overloaded almost immediately afterwards, his snarl and then roar drowning out Thundercracker's vocalisation. His spike slammed deep and the flared head pressed right up against Thundercracker's gestation seal. The first jet of transfluid hit the sensitive seal dead on. It hurt at first, stinging, causing Thundercracker's internals to clench and clamp down. Megatron made a sharp noise utterly unsuitable for a warlord to be making and dropped his head to the crook of Thundercracker's neck, panting against him as his frame shuddered and jolted with the last of his ebbing overload.

Thundercracker stirred at the now full feeling in the pits of his tanks. Megatron remained inside and on top of him, reluctant to move.

"...You wanna spark me?" Thundercracker murmured when enough fuel finally returned to his processor and let him think coherently again.

Megatron made an affirmative noise against his neck. Lips began to mouth at his throat again, clumsily but affectionately.

"Really?" Thundercracker breathed, staring at the ceiling.

"Hmm."

"Me?"

"Yes," was grunted against the edge of his jaw.

"...Why?"

Megatron lifted his head with an irate noise. "You're far more suited to the role of carrying than anyone else."

Thundercracker frowned, wondering how long Megatron had been scheming to make him his breeder. "Is that why you and I-?" No. Thundercracker swallowed down the hurtful accusation before he could voice it. That wasn't what the past year had been about. It couldn't have been.

"How long have you planned on ...becoming a sire?" He asked instead.

"Since this afternoon." Megatron clarified. "The thought had never occurred to me before."

Thundecracker blinked. Megatron stared back unapologetically.

He must have misread Thundercracker's dumbstruck expression though, as he began to draw away, "Unless you'd rather-"

"I've always wanted sparklings," Thundercracker reassured him quickly, "I just, with the war and all-"

"I will protect them, and you," Megatron said, suddenly intense and fierce again. Thundercracker felt a little flutter in his nether regions, a flutter Megatron, still plugged deep inside him, must have felt. He stirred, and Thundercracker shivered when he felt _things_ stiffen again.

"I think you'll find me a more than adequate sire," Megatron informed him, sounding ridiculously like he was interviewing for the position. He eased his spike out an inch or so only to gently slid back inside again, as if to prove how cautious and patient he could be.

Thundercracker groaned, writhing beneath him. "I know, I know..." He mumbled.

"Is that an agreement?"

"Yes," Thundercracker snapped, and his optical feed filled with static when Megatron drew back and plunged back into him in one smooth sweep. "Primus yes, just spark me already!"

Megatron rumbled in satisfaction and grabbed his hips, smirking that irritatingly cocky handsome smirk of his.

It was the last thing Thundercracker could recall beyond spark spinning pleasure the entire night. When he rolled onto his side early the next morning, stiff and aching and seriously deprived of energy, he was thoroughly sparked, incredibly bloated, and Megatron was unbearably smug about it all.


	3. Voyeurism

Starscream stood in the middle of the corridor, frozen in place, struck at the horror of the five _hundred_ plus items in his inbox waiting for his attention. Something had gone horrifically wrong down the line somewhere because _he_ did _not_ do _paperwork_.

He opened the first one, and scoffed aloud at the sight of a leave request form. As if anyone was allowed time off in a _war_. The audacity. He fired it back the way it had come with a big, fat 'denied' slapped across the top. The next file in the box was something to do with changing scheduled patrols, the third was a work order request from Scrapper, and everything following seemed much the same. Nothing had been labeled 'urgent' and frankly, he didn't care if it was. Reluctant to spend his entire morning flipping through each and every banal piece of paperwork, he highlighted the lot, and deleted them.

He brushed his hands together. There. Job done.

Starscream took one step and his inbox auto-refreshed, and bombarded him with _another_ fifty messages.

His left optic twitched as something in his brain module popped from rising fuel pressure. He set his jaw, balled his fists, and began marching in the direction of the Command Centre in search of someone to yell at.

Now, he wasn't a demanding superior. He didn't ask for much. Only that he never, _ever_ have to deal with bureaucracy. His trine knew that. It was their job to intervene between anyone wanting a form approved and his very limited patience. It was all he asked of them. He didn't care what they did with all that paperwork, only that he never had to see it, or hear about it, or know it had ever existed in the first place.

The first one of them he saw he was going to stab with the light-pen he was _not_ using to approve request forms with.

He didn't have to seek them out for long. A quick tug on their trine bond told him Skywarp was off on the other side of the base, mischievously secretive, up to no good in the lower levels most likely. Thundercracker was much closer, and in the direction he was heading anyway. His end of the connection was murky and faded. Not quite blocked but muted, like he wanted to keep himself hidden, didn't want to give his trine any cause to look too closely.

Secrecy from Skywarp was normal. From Thundercracker? Very suspicious.

Concerned -well, mostly angry- but a little concerned, Starscream muted his own end of the bond to remain inconspicuous as he came up on the Command Centre. It was the middle of the duty shift and he would have expected it to be busy with traffic -but both it and the corridor outside were completely deserted. He tiptoed through the doorway and leaned against the wall as he walked, peering around a large memory bank into the open centre of the room.

Megatron was leaning over a console- lying over it, really. The monitor above it was flashing and spasming as different keys and buttons were pressed. Starscream ducked behind his hiding place. His first thought was that Megatron was trying to fix it, and doing a poor job of it. But then, where was Thunder-?

A soft sigh sounded -certainly not Megatron's voice, but coming from his direction. Starscream leaned out again to get a better look, only now noticing that Megatron wasn't leaning over the console, he was rocking into it- no, not _it_ , because there was someone beneath him. Wings stuck out on either side and a pair of dark, blue, thruster heels were pressing against the small of Megatron's broad back.

Starscream swung back behind the memory bank with a muted, internal scream.

No wonder the Command Centre was deserted! Megatron had cleared it out so he could frag one of Starscream's subordinates over a security console! And Megatron had _private quarters_! If he wanted to nail Thundercracker in the middle of his duty shift _that_ badly, why not do it there?! In a berth? Or in the ridiculously oversized oil bath Starscream imagined he had squirrelled away in his private wash room.

Doing it in the Command Centre? On top of a console _other_ mecha would need to use sometime in the near future?! Of all the unprofessional, inappropriate-

Another moan rang out and Starscream couldn't help himself. He peaked. Megatron had his hands braced against the top of the console and one of his knees up on the edge to pivot himself deeper. Thundercracker was moaning rhythmically now, his wings flicking sharply with every forward roll of Megatron's powerful hips.

Starscream tuned his audials and could hear their fast, panting vents, the scrape of their armour, the clack of console keys under Thundercracker's aft. Megatron started moving faster, and then Starscream could hear the wet slide and slap of their arrays coming together.

He couldn't look away. Megatron's back armour was tense, his hip and aft plating rolling sinuously. Thundercracker's strong legs were clenching and flexing where they locked around Megatron's waist, and as the pace grew and grew, Thundercracker slapped a hand to Megatron's back and began to howl.

Megatron snarled something, and then he was fragging Thundercracker with unchecked passion. The console beneath them had given up completely and the monitor above was displaying an error code, but Megatron ignored the sparks and beeps of the computer they were abusing as he rode through Thundercracker's overload and into his own.

Starscream watched, spark pumping, optics wide, tanks quivering, as Megatron threw his head back and roared, his fingers crushing the edge of the console. Thundercracker writhed weakly, and Megatron ground into him, working his spike deep.

Starscream edged out a little to see better, and glimpsed Thundercracker sprawled on his back, arms splayed above his helm. His optics were offline and his mouth hung open as his panted, making it all the easier for a still growling Megatron to descend on him and plunder his mouth for a possessive, twining kiss.

Thundercracker made soft weak noises into it, his fingers twitching when Megatron's big fists curled around his wrists and stroked his open palms with his thumbs. He murmured something to Thundercracker that Starscream couldn't hear, his mouth flush to his audial. Thundercracker nodded listlessly, and Megatron began to rock into him again. Thundercracker's face contorted with discomfort, but it soon transmuted into tentative, growing pleasure.

" _Megatron~"_ he breathed airily.

Starscream inched back behind his hiding place, his mood souring and his core temperature staying stubbornly, unhelpfully high.

So, not only was Thundercracker _not_ doing his paperwork for him, but he was getting better 'facing too?

Starscream snuck back to the door, deciding he didn't want to know how many rounds these two could go, but also needing to attend to a little - _ahem_ \- problem of his own.

Perhaps he'd even use Megatron's quarters, since he knew _that_ berth wouldn't be occupied for some time yet.


	4. Blow Job

There was certainly something about the way Megatron ...sprawled. Majestic. Authoritative. _Large_. He didn't have to be in his throne to have that effect either.

His legs were thick (and his codpiece was ...well, it needed room) so his habit of mech-spreading wasn't entirely for show.

Thundercracker enjoyed resting between his legs for entirely innocent reasons too, a pair of powerful thighs either side of his chassis and a rumbling, warm chest to rest his head against when they read together quietly together on an evening was as close to Primus as Thundercracker was ever likely to get.

On one such evening Megatron reclined on his berth and let his legs splay characteristically open, utterly oblivious to Thundercracker's attention. He unsubspaced a data-pad and a pair of ridiculously small vision aids. He balanced them on the tip of his olfactory, and turned into _every single one_ of Thundercracker's fantasies all at one. Something in Thundercracker's chest went _boom_.

Megatron glanced at him over the top of the glasses. "...Everything functional?"

Thundercracker blinked rapidly, coming back to himself. He hoped he hadn't just been stood at the side of his leader's berth, _staring_ , with his mouth open and possibly drooling, for the last five minutes. He cleared his vocaliser.

"I'm fine. I'm good," he said, optics flicking between Megatron's charmingly concerned, unfairly debonair, spectacle wearing face and his inconspicuously splayed thighs. Something in Thundercracker's processor stalled, and between his spark thumping, and his array pulsing, it must have failed to switch back on again, because it was one of _them_ that decided it would be alright to say, "I want to suck your spike."

Megatron lifted the glasses away from his optics, squinting -and Primus even _that_ made him look handsome. Megatron cleared his vocaliser and asked, in a unfairly calm and even voice. "Would you really?"

Thundercracker's mouth was somehow both dry and producing too much oral lubricant. He nodded, and swallowed thickly when Megatron shifted and his codpiece caught the light. Thundercracker's sparked _ached_ he wanted it so bad-

Megatron balanced the glasses on the top of his head, and they looked doubly ridiculous and small there. "Have you done it before?"

Thundercracker flushed hot. "Yes," He bit out, then somehow grew hotter at Megatron very interested brow quirk. "Not- I- sometimes. I don't-"

Megatron lifted a hand and set his data-pad aside. Clearly, this was far more interesting than his novel. "Whatever you put in your mouth and however often you choose to do so, is none of my business," he purred smoothly, infuriating Thundercracker with his natural suave. "By all means..."

"I'm- I really haven't-" Thundercracker began awkwardly. The only thing worse than Megatron thinking he was some- some _prude_ who had never so much as licked a spike, was him thinking Thundercracker was some transfluid guzzling champion, only for him to be disappointed when Thundercracker went down on him with all the skill and passion of a dead electro-fish.

"It been a while," he settled on the simple truth.

Megatron settled back with an unbothered nod, the picture of ease as he folded an arm under his helm to cushion it. Thundercracker felt warm again when he realised that meant he was going to watch, and watch closely. And Thundercracker had only just gotten over the awkwardness of his leader watching him pull his ugly overload faces.

Thundercracker climbed onto the berth and knelt between Megatron's legs. He wet his lips. "Could you close your optics?"

Megatron, bastard he was, shook his helm, smile asymmetrical. "Oh no," he lifted a hand to cup the back of Thundercracker's head, massive palm dwarfing it. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."

In other words, he was going to take great joy in watching Thundercracker dribble and gag and choke on him.

Why did he want to do this again, he thought resentfully, letting Megatron guide him down towards his groin. To save his back from having to bend he shifted from his knees to lie flat on his belly between Megatron's legs -and came face-to-face with the large, black codpiece nestled between those silver thighs. He was close enough he could smell the oils and lubricants of the arrays beneath already. His tanks quivered.

Oh yes, that was why.

A thumb brushed up and down his head as pressure urged him closer. His chin bumped the heated metal. "You'll be fine," Megatron reassured quietly.

Thundercracker planted his hands on the tops of Megatron's great, thick thighs. He gave them a squeeze, and with an appreciative rumble, Megatron pushed at his head and made him nuzzle him. Thundercracker's olfactory filled with that musky, oily scent -the same that lingered in the room after a passionate evening, that he could smell on the sheets in the morning. The scent he imagined lingered on him for days after a night with Megatron.

His nose chafed against the metal plate and bumped the front seam. He exhaled through his mouth, letting the wet side of his bottom lip drag up the centre. He could feel the tiny vibrations of charge running through the array beneath and pressed a chaste kiss to the now widening centre seam. He slipped his tongue into it and the fingers on the back of his head tightened.

The codpiece transformed away in less than a beat, and out of the sheath beneath was already a spike half-emerged. Thundercracker nuzzled it clumsily, nosing at it, breathing on it, letting it swat his cheek when the attention he lavished on it had it filling fast, shooting up to its full, thickened length.

Thundercracker was well acquainted with Megatron's spike, but he had never been up this close and personal. He took his time teasing it, counting ridges with flicks of his tongue, blowing air on pulsing, pink biolights. Megatron's thighs were twitching and tensing with obvious anticipation, and it was a testament to Megatron's patience with him that the hand on the back of his head hadn't merely shoved him down and forced him onto the spike he was so mercilessly teasing.

He met Megatron's gaze challengingly, wanting his leader to lose some of that careful control, that suave air of his. Thundercracker kissed down the shaft, then licked the underside from base to tip. It twitched, a bead of transfluid welling at the tip. He did it again, rolling his tongue around where the shaft met the head. Megatron emitted a noise that was pure bass, so deep it rattled Thundercracker's armour.

Thundercracker licked over the slit and the rich, distinct flavour of transfluid burst across his tongue. He had tasted it before but never Megatron's. Bitter but sweet and full of charge. He licked again, quivering when he found yet more fluid had trickled free. He wrapped his lips around the head and suckled lightly, rolling his tongue over the divide to coax more out-

"Primus-!" Megatron tensed and pulled Thundercracker's head back.

Surprised, Thundercracker glanced up. Megatron was blinking his optics rapidly, his vents laboured and hitching.

"Were you about to overload? Already?" Thundecracker couldn't stop the smile spreading across his face.

Megatron frowned, "You tricked me."

"No I didn't."

"You allowed me to believe you were some sort of novice." He sounded pretty petulant for a mech getting his spike sucked.

Thundercracker's smile widened, "So I'm good?"

Megatron stroked Thundercracker's head distractedly, "...Perhaps too good."

Thundercracker went down on him again, this time discarding all showmanship by simply closing his mouth around what he could of Megatron without gagging. Megatron's hips jumped up in surprise and he hissed a curse. Thundercracker pulled back and swirled his tongue around the shaft and then the head, and took it back in again. It felt awkward at first, and he noticed Megatron's wasn't quite as vocal or as twitchy as he had been before.

There were no complaints though. Megatron stroked the back of his helm, back and forth, back and forth, in time to the slow bobs of Thundercracker's mouth down his spike. His jaw ached from having to accommodate his leader's girth, but it became easier with every pass. He found he could take a little more each time, and took measures to dull his gag reflex so he could let the tip prod at the back of his intake.

He realised, after a minute or so, mouth halfway down Megatron's spike, that the point of sucking spike, was to _suck_. So he did. The reaction was instant. Megatron shouted, hand clenching and pushing him down.

Thundercracker grunted in surprise and it transmuted into a gargle when Megatron only relaxed the pressure and allowed him room so he could push him back down again. Thundercracker relaxed as best he could, letting Megatron jab his spike into his throat. Unable to swallow, oral lubricants began to trickle out of the corners of his mouth. Megatron slipped his arm out from behind his head and began to use both hands to bob Thundercracker, faster and faster. Thundercracker moaned constantly, unable to help himself, his optics clenched shut against the onslaught.

Megatron began to moan aloud, loud, unguarded noises that were so unlike him. His frame was tensing, his spike twitching. Thundercracker tasted a spurt of transfluid across his tongue before his head was wretched off the spike. Megatron seized his spike and pumped it through overload, and jaw aching and hanging open, Thundercracker's mouth made the perfect target for the ropes of transfluid bursting from the tip.

Megatron came messily, not just in his mouth but across his nose and cheeks too. Thundercracker fluttered his optics open as the last two spurts hit him. Vents roaring and processor fogged, he swallowed what was in his mouth before jutting his tongue out to swipe up what remained in reach.

Megatron's arm dropped to his side with a thump. In his lap, his spike was wet and depressurising. Thundercracker bowed his head and licked up a strand of transfluid that was clinging to the tip. Megatron groaned.

Thundercracker sat back on his heels and looked down at the utter ruin that was Megatron.

"Good?' He prompted.

Megatron made a vague, sleepy noise.

Thundercracker was taking that as a 'yes'.


	5. Courting

Thundercracker wouldn't have described himself as particularly principled, and it was only because of Starscream and Skywarp's interest in the insurgency rising in Kaon that he agreed to go with them into the city in the first place. Without him there to curb their reckless impulses he feared they would have sold their very sparks to the first gladiator that winked their way.

He wasn't wrong.

He kept a close optic on Skywarp, but completely underestimated Starscream's stupidity, and the moment Thundercracker's wings were turned the selfish little tax-dodger was signing them into Megatron's servitude without so much as a warning, and all of a sudden, there he was, a seeker in the Decepticon's fledging airforce.

The tales he heard from others soldiers, of bombings and riots and assassinations, made it all seem like they had become a gaggle of lawless terrorists, but Megatron's empowering speeches almost made him feel like a freedom fighter with a noble cause. He didn't know what to think- he was a lowly grunt, he wasn't well versed in politics or in history, but when given a choice between a warm berth and fuel, or defection and starvation, it was enough to convince him to stay.

And Megatron was ...he- he always made it feel like it would be worth it, in the end.

His general disgruntlement wasn't subtle though. Megatron's terrifyingly unreadable lieutenant, Soundwave, seemed capable of eavesdropping on the recruit's very thoughts, and he always stared at Thundercracker a beat too long, always glanced his way across a crowded room, always paused before him during a roll call. Thundercracker stifled his doubts as best he could, but he couldn't dismiss them completely.

And it looked like he'd questioned the morality of his own actions one time too many when he came to Megatron's _personal_ attention. His trine returned from a drop late one cycle, and as Starscream was giving the debrief, Megatron's optics wandered and landed on _him_ , his intense, coal-like gaze melting through to Thundercracker's spark, and lingering.

For the entire debrief.

Thundercracker had wanted to shrivelled up and die.

Starscream was jealous for the most ridiculous of reasons- but then even he wasn't privy to the conflicts of Thundercracker's beliefs. He thought Thundercracker was trying to usurp his position as trine-leader through Megatron's favour.

Thundercracker didn't bother trying to explain that Megatron's interest in him wouldn't have anything to do with being in his favour.

Except he was wrong. Very wrong.

It started with Dreadwing showing up at his trine's quarters one unassuming cycle and thrusting the dismembered wings of the former Vosian Planetary Senator into Thundercracker's hands without a word. Sticky with life-fluid and still warm, Thundercracker dropped them in abject horror, spark drumming fearfully at what must be a warning. The Senator had been known for his corruption, taking bribes from Autobot security forces to look the other way when they imprisoned his own constituents.

Was this Megatron's way of saying he knew Thundercracker was a traitor to his own kind, to his own trine, by doubting their cause?

He was a wreck for days, and no amount of reassurances from Skywarp that he would tear anyone that came for him limb from limb could help. Skywarp was no defence against the might of Megatron's influence, and even less so against Megatron himself.

When Dreadwing next appeared in their doorway under a stellar cycle later, Thundercracker was braced for it, but was taken by surprise when the larger seeker dropped a giant fistful of colourful crystals and precious stones into his servo. Thundercracker looked down in shock, some of the smaller diamonds spilling between his fingers.

"What is-?" He began to ask, but Dreadwing was already striding away.

Thundercracker stepped back into his quarters with the stones cupped between his hands. He turned to face his trine and Starscream was off his bunk and snatching the stones out of his hands quicker than if he'd teleported to him.

"You don't need these," Starscream told him, shoving handfuls into his subspace. "They'd clash with your paint anyway."

Thundercracker nodded numbly.

Cautious investigation told him the precious stones had indeed been from Megatron, pillaged from the home of some Tower aristocrat the Decepticons had raided. Wondering if Megatron was simply sharing out the spoils of war among the faction, Thundercracker asked the Conehead's if they'd received any extravagant gifts lately, and was met with understandably befuddled stares.

Perhaps Megatron had come to the understanding that Thundercracker was loyal after all, and the stones had been an apology for terrorising him with the dismembered wings? Perhaps this would be the end of it?

It was late in the evening when a fist thunked loudly against their door. Skywarp rolled onto his front in his bunk with a grunt, slapping a pillow down over his head, and Starscream muttered a curse, dragging the sheets up to cover his face. The banging resumed, and with a sigh, Thundercracker reluctantly accepted that it would be up to him to answer.

He dragged himself out of his bunk and stumbled to the door, squinting when the bright buzzing lights of the corridor shone into their dark room. A very tall silhouette stood before him.

"Hey," Astrotrain nodded down at him casually.

Thundercracker shielded his optics, unable to see Astrotrain's face. "Hey..." He mumbled.

"You're wanted in the arena tomorrow night. For the rally."

The fog of recharge had slowed Thundercracker's processor. "Huh?"

"The arena. For the fights," Astrotrain repeated. "Tomorrow."

Thundercracker shook his head in disbelief. He didn't- he never went to watch the fights. They were brutal and gory, and a callous waste of life. It wasn't just the stench of energon and life-fluid that made him nauseous, but also the crowd's utter apathy towards the suffering of those who lost their lives in the macabre spectacle.

"No, I don't-"

"It's an order," Astrotrain said pointedly. "Megatron wants you there. Personally."

Thundercracker's spark began to drum again. He nodded numbly, audials ringing, making him deaf to Astrotrain's casual goodbye. The triple changer had long disappeared down the hallway before Thundercracker remembered to close the door behind him. The door sealed off the light and he was stood in the dark, the walls closing in-

"Megatron wants _you_ there?" Starscream's voice came from the third bunk, closest to the wall. Thundercracker met narrow slits of red across the room. "Personally?!"

"What did you _do_ , TC?" whispered Skywarp's completely round optics, sounding a mix between awed and fearful.

Thundercracker stuttered. "I- I-"

"Slag, is he gonna kill you?" Skywarp continued, really not helping things.

"You would think that, simpleton," Starscream muttered, sheets rustling as he laid down. His optics disappeared as he offlined them. "He probably just wants to frag him."

Thundercracker's spark jolted. "Wait- _wait_ , what?!"

Starscream was silent, so to get his answers Thundercracker crossed the room and climbed onto his bunk. Starscream thrashed. "What the pit-!"

Thundercracker caught his flailing arms and pinned them down by the wrists, either side of Starscream's blinking optics. "You know what's going on? You understand why I'm being harassed by him?!"

Starscream snorted, optics rolling in the dark. "I don't think anyone can truly 'understand' the inner workings of Megatron's processor unless they've taken as many blows to the head as him-"

"You said he wants to frag me."

"Probably."

"Why?!"

"The _gifts_ , you half-wit."

Thundercracker blinked, trying to recall what gifts. "The crystals, yeah, but-"

"And the wings."

"Those- how can some random seeker's ripped off wings be a gift?! That was-! I had defragment nightmares for cycles!"

"You're so ignorant," Starscream drawled. "He's Tarnish. That's how they court."

"That's how they _court_? By terrorising people!?"

"Well it would terrorise _you_ , you big floppy dipstick," Starscream grew impatient with being held down and surged up, knocking Thundercracker back into his aft across his lap. "It's called 'proving their worth'. They gift trophies of their victories, share their spoils, put on shows of strength, and other trashy, classless things like that."

"The arena," Thundercracker breathed, realisation dawning.

"He must think you're playing hard to get," Starscream optics looked him up and down. "Hense the invitation." Thundercracker couldn't see his mouth curving into the smirk, but he could hear it in the smug tone as he spoke. "If you held out a little longer, I'm sure we could get better accomodation."

"Hold out?!" Thundercracker spluttered, throwing himself off the bunk. "I'm not holding out, because I'm not interested!"

"Don't be so fragging selfish, Thundercracker!" Starscream yelled. "You're going! You may not want preferential treatment, but Skywarp and I do!"

"Skywarp?" Thundercracker turned to their trine-mate.

Skywarp snored.

"Why don't you take that stick out of your exhaust and live a little, Thundercracker," Starscream growled. "You could do worse than Megatron."

Thundercracker's tanks clenched fearfully. "He's violent."

"And you could do _worse_ ," Starscream's optics glinted. They then shuttered like he was going back to recharge. "You don't even want to know what _Kaonite_ courting looks like."

Thundercracker stood miserably between his trine's bunks.

Taking into account the rest of the faction, Starscream was depressingly right.

* * *

Thundercracker hated the sensory overload of the main arena. Spotlights rolled across the stands, highlighting members of the bloody-thirsty, mouth-frothing audience of the barest of seconds. Thundercracker tore his gaze from the great elevated screens replaying the slow-motion, close up shots of the most brutal carnage to those in the cheaper seats, so they could revel in every flying bolt and drop of blood.

Thundercracker wasn't unfortunate enough to be far enough away to miss _any_ of the action. He had a reserved seat, ring side, his left wing a half inch from brushing Soundwave's shoulder. To avoid looking at the terrifying lieutenant, Thundercracker kept his gaze forward and his optics unfocused. He saw splatters of pink and heard the roars of the crowd, and did his best not to let any of it embed itself into his long term memory banks.

All too soon came the finale, where he would have to pay attention. If Megatron thought dismembered body parts were suitable as romantic gifts, Primus only knew what sort of reaction he would have to getting turned down.

Thundercracker gulped and lifted his head towards the ring, watching Megatron traipse out of the tunnel and come to stand on the black X marking the centre of the pit. Beneath the rim of a hard helmet, Thundercracker's gaze met burning crimson, and felt himself flush.

He looked down into his lap quickly, sucking in a sharp breath. Next to him, Soundwave stirred.

The roaring, stomping crowd retook his attention and he snapped his gaze up as the brawl began.

He had never witnessed one of Megatron's fights in full, only the briefest and goriest moments, usually shoved under his nose by overexcited and over-sharing trine-mates. For a large mech, he moved gracefully. For a simple labourer, he fought skilfully. Thundercracker leaned forward in his seat, enraptured with his footwork, with his ducks and twists and strikes.

It was a dance, in a way.

Megatron punched his fist clean through his opponent's chest and out the other side. His thick fingers clutched the mecha's spark chamber. Megatron held the position as the crowd surged to their feet and become a blur of movement in the stands, before yanking his fist free and letting the mecha crumple at his pedes like a puppet with it's strings cut.

He held the spark clamber high above his head in victory. Life-fluid trickled down his arm, adding to the splattered mess across his shoulders and chest. And on his face, and the bridge of his nose. And there was a scuff across his cheek where knuckles had gazed him. None it sullied his handsomely strong features though. 

He was coming over. 

Thundercracker's spark beat was louder than the roar of the crowd now. He couldn't remember standing up, he couldn't remember leaning over the barrier, but Megatron was directly in front of him now, crumpled spark chamber in hand. Light was still fading from the seams when it was presented to him, Megatron silent and frowning.

Thundercracker took it from him, ignoring the heat sizzling his finger pads from the extinguishing spark within. He passed it along, pushing it into Soundwave's arms without a thought, all so he could be hands free when he rose onto the tips of his toe pedes and craned his neck to kiss him.

Their lips closed together and he tasted energon. Megatron's warm palm fell to the small of his back and pulled him closer, until the only thing keeping him out of the bloodstained pit was the sturdy safety barrier. He looped his arms around Megatron's neck, frame tingling when shield-sized hands capable of tearing a mech right down the middle caressed and stroked and roamed his frame with such gentility.

Thundercracker mewled into the kiss helplessly when Megatron's engines revved ferociously, and he was sure the victorious gladiator would have had him right then and there, in celebration of his win, in front of thousands of Decepticons, had Soundwave not subtly cleared his vocaliser.

Thundercracker tore himself free of the kiss and fell back into his seat in shock, his lips flushed and sore, his wings roughly fondled and askew. Megatron licked his lips slowly in satisfaction, savouring the taste of seeker on his tongue, before nodding at him. Thundercracker's flush enveloped his entire frame when Megatron turned away and continued to play to his crowd.

Soundwave was making a point not to look at him.

Barely a second had passed to allow Thundercracker to recollect an iota of dignity when someone pinched his wing. He jolted and whipped around, ready to smack whatever creep it had been around the face, only to come face-to-face with a breathless, scowling Starscream. It looked like he had just barged his way down here.

"I thought we agreed on playing hard to get?!" He snarled.

Soundwave's head lifted in interest.

Before Starscream could say anything _more_ damning, Thundercracker thrust his hands -sticky with energon from Megatron's splattered frame- at Starscream, who shrieked in horror and disappeared into surging the crowd.

Soundwave was still watching with interest.

"I'm -I'm not hard to get," Thundercracker explained so Soundwave wouldn't get the wrong idea. "I'm easy. I'm really ...easy."

He wished he hadn't said that.

Soundwave nodded professionally and turned back to face the arena.

So did Thundercracker, but this time with an added appreciation for Megatron's aft.

Starscream had been right. He could _definitely_ do worse.


	6. Virginity

Megatron could feel the shudders of growing nervousness travelling through Thundercracker's wings. He had the seeker pinned to the berth by them, his large frame braced over the lithe, squirming, fretful thing below. He dipped his head and closed his mouth over the centre tip of a turbine fan, sucking lightly and swirling his tongue around and around. Thundercracker surged into the touch, his wings creaking where the hinges protested.

Hands clasped the back of his head and held him closer, Thundercracker's jet engines firing up with a audial piercing shriek of noise. Megatron grunted and sucked harder, tongue mindful of the blades starting to spin.

He had barely begun and Thundercracker already sounded seconds from taking off. He wasn't surprised.

Untapped mecha did tend to be more sensitive to physical stimuli. An untapped _seeker_ on the other hand? He couldn't even begun to wonder how this felt for Thundercracker, every brush against his sensors making him shudder, every flick of Megatron's tongue prompting a hitch of breath- it would all pale in comparison to how loud he'd moan when he finally took him.

Thundercracker's top half was effectively pinned, but from waist down he had much more freedom. Hips rose and rocked, and legs alternated between lulling open welcomingly and trying to hook around Megatron's hips to pull him down.

Thundercracker's panels had sprung open on the first kiss, and the air between them was perfumed by the seeker's unique musk. He smelled sweeter than anything Megatron had experienced before, lubricant oily but fresh. He smelt _new_.

He rumbled his approval and nipped Thundercracker's turbine lightly, prompting another gasp and buck from the seeker beneath. The stiff length of Thundercracker's spike bumped and grazed Megatron's belly as he moved, leaving a sticky trail of silvery pre-fluid in it's wake. Though Megatron had little interest in anything but Thundercracker's plush, tight, unexplored valve, he didn't mind it's presence.

And he could hardly expect an inexperienced mecha to have the impulse control not to release his spike when he was having a good time. Any mecha with an iota of experience in these matters knew overloads were more intense when charge was being directed to just one array, but intensity was hardly going to be a problem for _this_ oversensitive seeker.

Megatron lifted his head from thoroughly lavished turbines and nuzzled his nose into the base of Thundercracker's throat cabling, inhaling deeply, letting the fresh, youthful, seeker-unique scent fill his olfactory. It made him feel virile, and his spike hardened in a pulse, pressing tightly against the inside of his codpiece until he released it. He let his knees slide out and lowered himself until he was chest to chest with Thundercracker. Their spikes bumped and slid together, Thundercracker's slick with it's own pre-fluid.

Megatron glanced down between them to take stock of it, feeling a somewhat immature curl of pride at how much bigger he was. Thundercracker certainly had him on aesthetics though. His spike was a polished length of silver and blues. A biolight stripe ran down the underside from the divide at the tip all the way down to the thickening base. It was smooth and flawless, not an imperfection to be seen. A far cry from the proverbial 'blunt instrument' Megatron was welding.

He rolled his hips, pinning Thundercracker's spike flat to his belly with his own, watching the biolight pulse in time with Thundercracker's whines. He was biting his bottom lip, trying to repress the noises, his brow creased with the effort. His legs were now spread obscenely wide and showing off the pink-flushed opening between them. The folds had parted ever so slightly, allowing Megatron to glimpse at wet, glistening inner mesh.

He backed off, letting his hands fall away from Thundercracker's wings. The seeker rose up and scrambled onto his elbows, foggy optics following Megatron's progress down his frame. Megatron pressed a few indulgent kisses to Thundercracker's cockpit, then hip, letting his mouth and nose ghost alongside his twitching spike. Thundercracker tilted his hips towards him, eager for him to stimulate his spike, but Megatron had already moved lower.

He swept his tongue over Thundercracker's valve, coating it in oral lubricants. The outer lips puffed up before his very optics, almost glowing with the energon filling them. Thundercracker made a weak, whimpering noise, his hands grasping the covers.

"You may have a factory seal," Megatron told him, letting his pinky run up and down the quivering opening.

Thundercracker swallowed audibly. "Are you gonna break it?"

Megatron ensured his pinky was good and wet before sinking it into Thundercracker. The seeker stiffened, and his valve clenched down tight- even on such a slim digit. Megatron ignored the grip of tensing callipers and sunk it in to the knuckle, stroking through parting mesh in search of any potential blockages.

He felt what appeared to be another rim, deeper inside the valve channel, but no blockage. He relished the silky, wet internals for a moment. "It appears to have opened."

Thundercracker blinked dazedly. "It's- it's gone?"

Megatron hid a smirk, letting his pinky move slowly in and out. Already damp, Thundercracker was now beginning to soften. He added a second finger, and Thundercracker didn't appear to even notice. "Not gone." He traced his fingers around the rim of the opened seal again. "It's spiralled open. As it's designed to do."

"I thought," Thundercracker twitched, seeming to realise there were two fingers in him now. "Thought you had to break-"

"Only poorly made, out-dated, or very old seals would need to be broken." Megatron pulled his fingers free, enjoying the strings of lubricant keeping the tips of his fingers connected to Thundercracker. "You've been made with much more care than the average low-caste Decepticon."

Thundercracker's cheeks burnt a dull pink. "...Won't it just seal again?"

"So what if it does?" Megatron swirled his wet fingers over Thundercracker anterior node, which was also now plush and bright with arousal. Thundercracker's head fell back between his shoulders with a groan. "I'm sure I could coax it back open again."

Thundercracker made a thick, groaning noise of agreement.

Megatron considered the hot, writhing mech before him. He could slip his fingers back inside and open him up a little more -Thundercracker certainly wouldn't complain about it- but he felt a great temptation to let Thundercracker's valve stretch and adjust itself on his very spike. Thundercracker was obviously wet enough, and if he were to move slowly...

He took his spike and guided it to Thundercracker's entrance, nosing at the anterior node. He let the divide on the head dribble a little pre-fluid and painted it over the glowing node. He purred in approval when Thundercracker's valve rim winked at him eagerly, the callipers clenching in anticipation. His tank felt hot and tight with desire.

He dragged the tip through the folds, up and down, getting it nice and wet, before nudging the rim. He leaned forward, added pressure. Thundercracker stiffened and tensed, a hiss escaping his vents. Megatron's spike was broad and thick -far from suitable for a 'beginner'.

Megatron waited. Thundercracker sucked in a breath, then breathed out, and Megatron struck, adding pressure again until his tip finally popped past the ring. Thundercracker yelped, his pedes lifting off the berth. Megatron pressed an inch further into the irresistible pull of tightening callipers with a low rumble of satisfaction. Thundercracker's hips twitched and turned like he was trying to draw away from it, his vents hitching.

Megatron grasped his sides and held him down. "Easy, easy," he stroked a smooth hip. "Don't pull away."

Thundercracker stilled, but his valve was still flexing and spasming. "P-Primus, that's -that's _intense_."

Megatron refrained from smugly telling him it was only the tip. "Can you handle it?"

It was in parts a question of concern and a challenge. Thundercracker didn't look sure though, "I-I don't know-"

Megatron began rocking gently, easing in a little deeper with every forward roll. Thundercracker's worries drifted away with a little coo of delight, his optics fluttering as pressure led to friction, and friction led to pleasure. Megatron leaned over him and tucked his face into his throat cabling, bracing his hands against his wings again, working into him until he was finally fully seated in Thundercracker's luscious valve.

Thundercracker groaned and clutched at his shoulders, his legs kicking out when rocks turned into thrusts, and thrusts into fierce, pounding shoves.

Typical of virgins and seekers alike, Thundercracker overloaded quickly. His spike jetted a stripe of transfluid up his own cockpit, some of it flicking up and speckling Megatron's chest. He snarled as Thundercracker's valve clamped down and spurted lubricant, allowing his spike to glide in and out of him faster and faster.

Ferocity peaking with arousal, he roared and bit Thundercracker, his fingers folding around the edges of his wings as the heat pooling in his tanks spilled over.

He hunched over Thundercracker, held deep, and let go, filling him up with everything he had to give, marking territory that had so far been completely untouched, by all but him. He quivered in pleasure at the possessive thought, drawing his spike out until just the tip was inside, then pushing back inside, just to feel and hear the fluids he'd deposited inside displacing around him.

As his spark pulse began to slow in the aftermath, his jaw relaxed, and he released teeth from Thundercracker's neck. He sucked on the crumpled cables instead, licking at them lightly in apology.

"Wow," Thundercracker wheezed, sounding awed, like a whole new world had opened up before him. " _Wow_."

Another satisfied customer.

Megatron eased himself down on top of him, allowing them to remain joined. Thundercracker's valve twitched every time he shifted, but Megatron was reluctant to pull out just yet. He'd like to let that seal of Thundercracker's get a little more used to being open.

"We're gonna do that again, right?" Thundercracker inquired softly.

Megatron set his chin atop his helm and smirked. The poor, naive, sheltered seeker- they'd only just begun.


	7. Thunderous

Megatron was distracted from the star map projected before him by a knock and scrape. He switched the projection off and frowned across the empty room in suspicion. He had _thought_ he was alone.

There was another scuffing noise, and now actively searching for the source, Megatron was able to pinpoint it's location -the sealed doors to the bridge. He strode around the round table and approached, just as another shuffle and thunk sounded. He looked down, to the floor, where someone appeared to be trying to stuff something under the narrow seam at the bottom of the door. Too thick, only the corner of the data-pad had made it underneath and was wriggling back and forth as someone tried to jimmy it under.

Megatron pressed the release and the doors swept open. At his pedes, Thundercracker was frozen on his knees, hunched over with his wings stiff and upright, a data-pad in his hand. Megatron wordlessly extended his hand to receive it.

Thundercracker didn't hand it over. He clutched it to his chest like a shield. "Er, wrong door-"

"I'm sure you're aware that the orders I put out not to be disturbed do not apply to _you_ ," Megatron reminded him, amused at Thundercracker's unexpected nervousness. It reminded him of a time not so long ago, when they had first started ...seeing one another. "If you need to speak with me you do not have to resort to cramming data-pads under doorways."

Thundercracker rose to his feet and tucked the data-pad behind his back. "No, I was hoping- I just wanted to leave it with you- it's not important- well, no, it is, but I- I didn't want to be around when you -when you ...read it."

That wiped the smirk from Megatron face. Thundercracker was a confident, articulated mecha, and rambling nonsense wasn't like him at all. He noticed now that Thundercracker's body language was nervous and restless, shifting his weight between his thrusters, like he feared what Megatron's reaction to this news would be.

Which was ridiculous. The very reason Thundercracker was often chosen to be his messenger (of bad news) was because Starscream and Soundwave knew he was far less likely to take it out on someone he liked -more than just liked, in fact. (Cowards.)

This was clearly ...a personal matter.

Megatron thrust his hand out again, more insistently this time, barely retraining himself from snatching it from the seeker. Thundercracker stepped back, reluctant. He bit his lip, optics down, unable to meet Megatron's gaze, and held the data-pad out.

Megatron twisted it around and switched it on. He was met with pages of jargon and numbers. He blinked in surprise, failing to comprehend what it meant at just a mere glance. He had to read it properly.

It was a medical report- _Thundercracker's_ medical report. When he first read the sentence detailing an 'abnormal energy signature' emanating from Thundercracker's chest, he feared the worst, dread chilling him to his core, until he read the next sentence-

"You're sparked," he mumbled, brow creasing deeply.

Thundercracker shifted his footing again. "...Yeah, sorry."

Megatron didn't answer for a moment, feeling oddly numb to something that really should have had a bigger impact on him. "...You don't have to apologise," he finally had to sense to say.

"What are we going do?" Thundercracker sounded nervous. Megatron forced himself to look away from the report and meet the fretful seeker's gaze. "We can't have it here, can we? Someone might, I dunno, eat it or something."

That brought about the emotional response he had been waiting for. A fierce surge of protectiveness rose in him. However unlikely it would be that another Decepticon would want to ... _eat_ their sparkling, he would never allow it.

He opened an arm welcomingly, gesturing for Thundercracker to come closer. "We will work something out."

It seemed to be all Thundercracker needed to hear. His expression collapsed with relief and he all but fell into the offered embrace. Megatron patted the small of his back, unused to the most stoic of all his seekers being so openly affectionate.

"Let's just hope those carrying protocols don't get the better of you," Megatron joked lightly, recalling the horror stories he had heard about carrying seekers in the past.

He felt Thundercracker smile against his collar seam. "I don't think we have to worry about that."

* * *

After four million years of war, Thundercracker hadn't expected just one to pass so slowly. And as much as the days had seemed to drag, it never felt like their was enough time to get everything ready.

Thundercracker credited the faction's inability to complete tasks in a timely matter for that though. The Constructicons took months to even present him and Megatron with their first blueprints for the sparkling's frame, and all of them where awful. To make matters worse, Megatron didn't agree, making comments about Thundercracker being 'unnecessarily picky' over 'insignificant details'. Short on patience, tired and uncomfortable, Thundercracker had then told Megatron he was 'bad sire' because he didn't seem to care about their sparkling having disproportionate pedes.

And that had been the first of many arguments.

When it came to their sparkling, they couldn't seem to agree on a single thing. Thundercracker wanted a separate room for their sparkling to inhabit. Megatron did not, and sounded like he wanted to smoother their offspring by having them share a room with at least one of them until they were practically an adult.

"I hadn't realised you Tarnish were such coddlers," Thundercracker snarked nastily.

"And I shouldn't have underestimated how neglectful you high caste Vosian's are," Megatron muttered back.

Megatron wanted to vet a caretaker for their sparkling, but Thundercracker wanted to keep the parenting within the 'family unit', and was unmoving in his decision to share duties out among his trine. Megatron had said only a lunatic would let Starscream near a sparkling, which had led to one of their biggest arguments.

A month before the spark was due to split from his and survive in it's own protoform, and they still hadn't picked a designation for it. Thundercracker would have liked them to have picked one months ago, as a designation played an important part in shaping a new-spark's path in life. Megatron had said that was 'functionist nonsense' and sparklings should be named _after_ their first vorn, after developing their own personality and traits, so it would reflect _who_ they were, and not who they were _meant_ to be.

By the end of it all Thundercracker was beginning to hate Megatron, and he was fairly sure Megatron felt the same way about him. He was only one more muttered insult away from being drafted into Starscream's 'Megatron Haters Anonymous' club, and once you were in, you were a member for life.

"Now, you know I'm not one to go around defending Megatron," Starscream leant back in his seat, fingers steepled together. "But have you considered that your carrying protocols _may_ be getting the better of you?"

Thundercracker, laid flat on the decking at Starscream's pedes because he was hot -and _always_ so hot with the excess energy pumping through his frame- glared up at him. "You think he's right?" He snapped.

Starscream rolled his optics, "Don't be demented, Thundercracker, Megatron has never been right about anything. I'm merely pointing out -because you appear to have missed it- that this sparkling has turned you into an unreasonable, blue, rage-machine."

Maybe Megatron was right about not letting Starscream near sparklings. He obviously had awful judgement if he thought Thundercracker was the problem here.

By the time the new-spark started to split and began putting unbelievable pressure on Thundercracker's own spark, he was beginning to dread the potential life before him. Not the sparkling, he wanted it and he wanted to be a creator, but it was something that would forever tie him to that great, big, bullheaded megalomanic.

"How are you?" Megatron greeted him civilly when he arrived in the medbay, a full hour after contractions had started. Jerk. 

Thundercracker was sat on the edge of a repair slab, his fingers curled around the edge and squeezing dents into it. "How do you think I am?" He hissed, shaking as another cramp rolled through him. It felt like the spark was about to burst out of his chest in a ball of fire.

Hook wheeled a table over with a complete, brand- new, polished and painted protoform resting on it. Megatron stepped aside, peering down in surprise. "That doesn't look anything like the blueprint you showed us."

Hook nodded at Thundercracker, "Cuz they weren't good enough for his highness over here. He vetoed it and had Screamer redesign it."

Megatron's jaw clenched. "Did he now..."

"I'm in a lot of pain," Thundercracker growled before he could start. "Can you not wait until _after_ this to start nagging at me?"

The reminder of how difficult this was for Thundercracker stowed Megatron's irritation for now. He moved aside so Hook could get to work.

Thundercracker was told to lay back and open his chest plates. The pain seemed worse when he exposed himself to the open room, and the excessive energy coming off the separating sparks felt like it was burning the insides of his chamber. Fingers threaded in his hand and he squeezed them without a care for who they belonged to.

He felt a tug on his spark, then a release, and a cold feeling worse than any of the pain swept over him. He snapped his optics online and jolted up in fright, wondering where the presence had gone, where his sparkling-!?

Hook was bent over the protoform now, bathed in white, ethereal light. Thundercracker watched with baited breath, his hand clutching Megatron's, squeezing thick fingers so hard it must have hurt him. Then Hook was straightening up, and the protoform twitched with life.

"Done," was all Hook said, stepping aside and pushing the table towards them. "Vocaliser won't online for a day or two and it'll take a few months for him to get control of his motor functions. Enjoy."

Thundercracker looked down into the two optics staring up at him. They were a dark crimson, the same shape and hue as Megatron's. Starscream had stayed true to his wishes for the design.

"He looks like you," he brushed Megatron with a wing.

"...I suppose he does," Megatron consented. "Perhaps Starscream _was_ an adequate choice for the designs."

"He's very vain," Thundercracker nodded, reaching out to pick the sparkling up. He was lighter than expected, his limbs dangling. Thundercracker cradled him to his chest, wanting their sparks close again. "It took a lot for me to convince him to add your features."

Megatron was too infatuated with their little sparkling to react to his words. "Did you choose a designation?"

Thundercracker looked into his sparkling's blinking, sleepy face. "I don't know. Maybe we should wait." He sensed Megatron looking at him in surprise. He lifted his head, "What?"

"This is a very different attitude to the one I have been suffering with this last year."

Thundercracker shrugged, "Guess I was under the influence of a protocol or too. Can you ever forgive me?"

Megatron leaned in and pressed their head's together gently. Neither of them wanted to look away from their creation for long. "...Perhaps in time."

Thundercracker knocked him with his wing playfully. Together this would be a breeze, even if their parenting styles weren't always the most compatible.

Now all he needed to do was figure out how to get himself out of Starscream's club.


	8. Consummation

"You've _what_?!" Thundercracker stared at Starscream incredulously. 

Starscream's tacky, golden crown glinted as he tilted his head back to smirk over a wing. "Found you a conjunx, of course. There's no need to thank me-"

"I wasn't-" Thundercracker's vocaliser cracked with stress and he had to reset it. "I wasn't _looking_ for a conjunx!" 

"Well Megatron of Tarn _was_ and I wasn't about to offer myself up for the task," Starscream studied his claws. "You leave tomorrow. Do give him my love, and remind him to ship over that mining equipment he promised, won't you?" 

"You traded me for drills and pickaxes!?" Thundercracker could scarcely believe it- well, that wasn't entirely true; he could believe it. This was exactly the sort of thing Starscream did. Thundercracker was only surprised it wasn't Skywarp he was shipping off to Tarn. 

Thundercracker had always assumed that if Starscream was going to rid himself of one of his trine, it would be the one who couldn't go a day without pushing a diplomat down a flight of stairs. 

"I know what you're thinking," Starscream turned, this purple cape whipping around him majestically. "Why you and not Skywarp?" 

"It-it just- no offence to Warp- but it just doesn't make sense," Thundercracker nodded angrily, setting his fists on his hips. 

"Tarn has this ...quant little tradition, you see," Starscream smiled prettily, which meant the tradition Tarn had was bound to be anything but 'quant'. "Where the officiant of the union witnesses the ...well, the _consummation_." 

Thundercracker's mouth dropped open. "So not only are you shipping me off to some foreign warlord like a mail-order-seeker, but some old religious weirdo is going to watch us 'face?!" 

"They're not going to watch you 'face," Starscream held up a claw. "They're going to watch Megatron 'claim' your seals. Which is precisely why Skywarp can't go. That little tramp hasn't had one of those since the Bronze Age..."

"And what makes you think _I'm_ still sealed?" Thundercracker growled. 

Starscream just laughed. 

* * *

Thundercracker was so lost to this own thoughts he barely looked up to take the city-state of Tarn in, not that there would be much to take in beyond burly miners, drunken labourers, and sweltering pits. 

He had a lot to think about anyway; leaving his home, his trine, having to adjust to life in Tarn, to living with a conjunx he had never even met- and that was all ignoring the most pressing fact that he was about to be publicly defiled by said soon to-be-conjunx, who was, incidentally, one of the planet's most notoriously violent warmongers. 

Thundercracker had heard that Megatron had been a gladiator before usurping the previous head of state, and a miner before that. The more Thundercracker imagined what this mech would be like, the tighter the knot in his tanks grew. The Tarnish were already so far removed from the culture and lifestyle he knew as a Vosian, and to think he would be settling down as the trophy of an uneducated brawler he'd have nothing in common with, filled him with dread. 

His dreams of conjunxing a wealthy, cultured aristocrat had gone down the drain. He had to say goodbye to the thought of living a comfortable, leisurely life, of his ambitions to become a writer. 

He spitefully hoped the civil unrest grew into an all out rebellion that consumed the planet and led to someone finally knocking Starscream off his throne. It would be nice if Megatron did it. Maybe then Thundercracker could take Starscream's crown for himself. He wouldn't wear it, just toss it into the smelter in front of Starscream. 

He was taken to an expansive, but low fortress in the centre of the city-state, glowing orange from the rising light of the multilayered streets below. The guards stationed at the perimeter were very unlike the ones of Vos, who would be dressed in regal finery and stamped with the insignia of Starscream's (invented) royal house. The Tarnish guards were a mismatch of colours and sizes and ...standards of personal hygiene. Like the Vosian guards they were branded though, with a scowling purple face. 

They passed through the gates. Outside the main doors into the fortress a mech was stood waiting for them. He was also stamped with the insignia and Thundercracker presumed him to be the captain of the guard. He was a tall, well armoured, silver mech, with board shoulders, a distinctive helmet, and large black servos. 

"Thundercracker, I presume," he said when they were within audial range. 

Thundercracker's escorts stopped in front of him. One of them handed over the case carrying the gift Starscream had sent with Thundecracker: the fusion cannon. The mech opened it and quirked an interested brow. 

"His royal highness regrets he couldn't make the union between Vos and Tarn more official," Thundercracker explained to the mech. "He commissioned this one-of-a-kind weapon as a gesture to make up for-" Thundercracker sighed, "-to make up for Lord Megatron having to _settle_ for a _subpar_ offering in conjunx." He managed to get out, glaring at the ground. 

The mech looked at him in silence. The case clicked shut and the mech handed it off to one of Thundercracker's escorts. 

"A thoughtful gesture," he murmured, his voice warm but his accent thick and common- definitely a former-miner himself. "But unnecessary. I am more than content with the quality of the offering." 

Thundercracker's helm snapped up, staring in surprise at the mech he had _thought_ was a lowly captain. " _You're_ -?"

 _Megatron_ took his wrist, cutting him off. Thundercracker fully expected him to lift his servo and kiss the back of it, like any decent suitor would to the mecha they intended to woo. Megatron did not. He slid his servo up his arm and clasped Thundercracker's forearm in a warriors hold. Thundercracker mirrored the gesture out of instinct more than anything else.

Megatron studied him a moment. Whatever he was looking for he must have found it, as he released Thundercracker with a curt nod. "Take the weapon to my quarters." He ordered the escort without tearing his gaze away from Thundercracker. 

Thundercracker made to follow the escorts, unsure of what was expected of him. But a strong arm was extended and a hand blocked his path. 

"You will be coming with me," Megatron told him, gesturing with his helm in the opposite direction. 

Thundercracker nodded and followed quietly, his wings settling low on his back as his nerves began to get the better of him. 

He had been told the Tarnish didn't procrastinate with this sort of thing, and preferred to conjunx quickly and without ceremony. Thundercracker had all but convinced himself he would be pinned to a pillar in the entry hall and taken as soon as he'd stepped foot into Megatron's domain. But now that he was being led _away_ from the lord's quarters there might be more pomp and circumstance to this than Starscream had terrorised him into thinking there wasn't. Perhaps they'd even have the time to get to know one another first? 

That turned out to be wishful thinking. 

Megatron led him to what appeared to be a modest, ancient looking chapel at the far end of the fortress. It was small, with seating only enough for a dozen mechs- less so if they were on the larger side. It was empty save for one official looking mech stood at the front of the room. He was stood behind a holographic projection showing lines of glyphs. Thundercracker couldn't read them from where he stood. Even if they hadn't appeared backwards to him, they looked to be in a language he couldn't understand. 

Thundercracker swallowed thickly, his spark drumming and his invents uneven. This was it. 

He looked to the officiant for some sort of reassurance, but unlike the gentle sky-priests of Vos, the mech's ancient face was unkind and uninterested. Thundercracker felt even more uneasy about what he was to perform in front of him. 

He looked to Megatron next, wondering how anyone could even think about getting intimate with someone with such a miserable old pervert watching. 

When he met his soon to-be-conjunx's gaze, he was surprised to find the taller mech had been looking at him. His stoic face was stoney and unreadable, but there was a brush to the back of Thundercracker's fingers. Thundercracker turned his hand and let thick, heavy duty fingers thread between his. He smiled shyly. Megatron didn't return it, but the lines of his face seemed to soften.

The officiant began to speak in an ancient dialect of Tarnish Thundercracker couldn't even hope to keep up with. Megatron would occasionally murmur things when the officiant looked at him expectantly, but the old mech didn't seem to require Thundercracker to say anything. Which Thundercracker didn't like at all, but then, this _was_ Tarn. 

The officiant swept his fingers through the hologram and changed the glyphs in front of him. Thundercracker slumped a little, realising this would go on for some time yet. 

_I will be asked to claim you soon,_ Thundercracker jumped when a voice crackled out of his internal comm. 

He glanced at Megatron but the mech was still staring ahead, by all appearances, listening to the officiant with rapt attention. 

_Oh_ , was all Thundercracker could manage back. 

_If this will be problem, tell me now, and I can make alternative arrangements_

_Like what?_ Thundercracker was curious. 

Megatron didn't respond.

Thundercracker's hand felt clammy where it was clasped in Megatron's tightly, like the silver mech he barely knew was the only lifetime Thundercracker had left in the strange and unpredictable place. He considered Megatron's offer, briefly. But delaying it would only buy him a few days, maybe even just hours. It was best to get it over with now, before he lost his nerve. And part of him ...part of him was almost a little excited at the idea of-

 _Thundercracker_ , Megatron pressed. 

_No_ , he answered quickly. _It's fine_

The officiant finished speaking. He ran his hand over the hologram again and it disappeared back into the projector. He nodded at Megatron and took one step back, giving them some space, but no privacy. Thundercracker scowled at him. 

Until a hand cupped his cheek and turned him. 

Megatron held his hand as he kissed him, his back bowed and his head dipped to reach. Thundercracker responded numbly at first, his fingers squeezing Megatron's so tightly that had he not been a miner, they might have been popped out of their sockets. Megatron didn't seem to mind either way, tilting Thundercracker's helm back and kissing him again, lips closing against and pushing apart his. Thundercracker opened his mouth acceptingly, his tongue withdrawing when Megatron's own slick appendage slipped into his mouth and brushed against his. He made a soft noise of surprise, unused to such intimacy and unsure what to do. 

Megatron continued to kiss him for a long time, touching him no more than the hand stroking his cheek and the fingers griping Thundercracker's. It was nice, and kiss after kiss Thundercracker's nervousness began to recede. Still, he kept his optics shuttered tightly so he wouldn't open them and catch a glimpse of the old mech watching from the sidelines. 

He stepped a little closer, tempted by the kisses, and Megatron took it that he wanted more. His hand left Thundercracker's cheek and took his wing. He explored it like he had never touched one before, and perhaps he hadn't. Thundercracker twitched into his touch, sighing when Megatron did something he liked. 

He pinched the tip and Thundercracker gasped into his mouth. He threw out a hand and caught Megatron's hip, his fingers slipping into a seam of armour and clinging to it. Tension built between Thundercracker's hips and his face began to warm. 

Megatron took him by the small of his back. He was stilling holding Thundercracker's hand when he sank to the floor, pulling Thundercracker with him. No one had had the foresight to set something soft and comfortable down for them, and it would ruin Thundercracker's wings if he had to lay on his back for this.

Either Megatron read his processor was just an unexpectedly thoughtful mech, because before Thundercracker could recline Megatron was tugging him into his lap instead. Thundercracker settled himself down across broad thighs, straddling the large mech so they were flush together, chest to chest, cockpit to armoured belly. He looped his arm around Megatron's thick neck and they were kissing again. 

Megatron took his hip and encouraged him to rock. Thundercracker got his knees under him and did, grinding his panel against Megatron's codpiece, cheeks flush and optics bright. They moved like that for a while, building the charge between their frames. The heat in Thundercracker's face turned supernova when he felt the dampness growing beneath his panel begin to escape around the seams and _drip_. Some of it smeared across Megatron's codpiece, painting matt black a neon blue. 

"Sorry," he whispered between kisses. 

Megatron hushed him, sneaking a hand from Thundercracker's hip to between his legs. Thundercracker twitched in surprise when fingers pressed and dragged along the panel. It opened with an eager snap, spilling more lubricant. 

Unused to anything but his own fingers, every touch to his valve was heightened. Megatron's fingers felt large and blunt when they stroked over his entrance. He stopped rocking entirely, rising onto his knees to escape some of the pressure of just one finger pushing in. 

Megatron still held his hand, thumb stroking across the back of it. 

Megatron began dipping his finger in and out of him, pushing deeper every time. Too embarrassed to look at Megatron, Thundercracker turned his head away. But that was where the officiant was stood. He snapped his gaze back and hid his face in the warlord's neck instead, breathing raggedly as a second finger slipped inside and stretched him out. He whispered a frantic curse, twitching into every stroke and plunge. 

Megatron's spike began to pressurise with a quiet, barely noticeable hissing sound. Thundercracker swallowed thickly, clutching tightly at Megatron, his nose buried in his neck. His olfactory flooded with his scent- molten iron and gunpowder, so raw and masculine. 

Megatron withdrew his fingers and took his hip again. Thundercracker knelt up and positioned himself, letting Megatron pull his hand free from his to grip his spike with, holding it steady. Thundercracker looped both arms around Megatron's neck now, and clung to him.

He sank down. 

He bit his lip to keep from howling like a cyber-cat in heat as the spike began to slide into him, thick and overwhelmingly hot. He felt himself ripple and clench around it, and every minute shift of his hips bloomed a new wave of pleasure though him. 

The spike was a quarter way into him when it bumped the seal obstructing it. The pressure on it increased as Megatron growled and began rocking into him, bumping the seal a little harder each time. Thundercracker gasped sharply and forced himself not to tense. Then finally, with one firm shove, the full length of Megatron's spike sank into him.

It felt too good to hurt. Megatron twitched his hips and Thundercracker wanted to melt into a puddle all over his lap. Megatron ground up into him, savouring how deeply seated he was before taking Thundercracker's aft and moving him back and forth, rolling him across his lap. The friction was heavenly on Thundercracker's anterior node. 

Before long it wasn't enough for Thundercracker. He sat back, planting his hands on the floor behind him, and began to undulate his frame back onto the spike. Megatron held his thighs and watched him hungrily, his gaze intense and hot. Thundercracker couldn't care less that they were being watched now.

Thundercracker rose onto his knees again and began to move himself up and down on Megatron's spike, rising slowly and slamming himself back down again, gasping aloud at the pleasure that shot up his spinal strut. Megatron was watching him with something akin to wonder, his face no longer stoic and emotionless. Thundercracker smiled breathlessly, bouncing himself up and down, fast and hard, his overload thundering closer, roaring in his audials and igniting the fuel in his lines. 

Without warning Megatron surged forwards and kissed him again, a rough, biting kiss, and snapped his hips up sharply. Thundercracker keened, his frame arching against Megatron's, pleasure pulsing from his core outwards as he overloaded. Megatron pumped his hips a few more times before grunting into their kiss, his lips stilling against Thundercracker's as his own frame tensed and twitched in overload. 

Thundercracker pulled out of the kiss and let his forehead thunk against a huge silver shoulder. He shuttered his optics and curled his arms around a chest so large his fingers almost couldn't meet on the other side. 

He felt a kiss fall to the edge of his wing and smirked softly. 

Someone cleared their throat- the impatient officiant. Thundercracker moaned at the reminder of his presence, turning his head to better hide his face against Megatron. 

_Ignore him,_ sent Megatron, sounding amused and fond. His warm mouth pressed another kiss to Thundercracker's wing. 

Thundercracker gladly took his advice, stroking up and down his conjunx's armoured back, tracing scars and nicks with his finger tips. 

This, he decided, trilling softly when another kiss fell to his wing, might not be so bad after all. 


	9. Blood Lust

The rain was torrential. 

Megatron's shoulders heaved with harsh, ragged breaths, his servos fisted and covered in life-fluid. The Insecticon lay deactivated at his pedes, bloodied and broken, neck twisted unnaturally where Megatron had finally managed to lock his arm around it's head and _twist_. It's energon was seeping into the earth and mixing with the loose mud. The sight of it offline and finished did little to calm the raging storm within him. Charge crackled across his armour and power sang through his circuits, and it all needed an outlet. His sense of _victory_ needed an outlet. 

He snapped his head around and took in the gathering of seekers behind him, the Insecticon's original targets. He had told them to flee, but it seemed they were more curious than they were intelligent, and rather than sully their pretty thrusters in the thick mud they were perched on rocks and the trees that had been felled during the fight. Their wings were high and their optics blown wide, clearly thrilled by the excitement of it all. Foolish creatures, he thought angrily, lip curling. 

Beautiful, foolish creatures. 

The roar of approaching thrusters broke through the noise of heavy rain pinging across armoured wings. Megatron knew every last one of his seekers by the unique thrum of their jet engines alone, so of course he recognised the sound of Thundercracker slicing through the clouds before he even saw the seeker. Thundercracker swooped low, skidded through the mud, and rushed through the crowd to reach him. 

"Megatron, I heard-!" Thundercracker's call died in his vocaliser when he stumbled in the mud at the sight of him, dripping in rain and energon, a dead Insecticon at his pedes. 

Megatron marched across the field with purpose, unthinkingly, closing in on him. The seekers behind Thundercracker scattered with frantic squawks, tripping over themselves as they tried to avoid the worst of the puddles. 

Thundercracker himself took three quick steps back, fear shooting across his expression. His palms rose defensively and Megatron took his slender wrists in his energon stained hands as he bullied the seeker back against a nearby tree. Thundercracker's back hit the bark with a thunk and knocked the rainwater collected in the leaves above loose. It crashed across their armour, but Megatron was already kissing Thundercracker. 

Thundercracker squeaked in surprise, his hands flattening themselves to Megatron's chest like they didn't know what to do with themselves. The poor seeker's shock was expected. Thundercracker was high-caste and sophisticated, and though Megatron was not, he had courted him as such, with soft kisses and gentle touches and slow, intimate love-making.

And charged up with more power than he knew what to do with, he had no such inclination to continue that farce now.

Megatron thrust his tongue into Thundercracker's mouth with a fierce growl, his frame pulsing with passion and his belly full of fire. He thoroughly possessed the seeker's mouth, biting his lips and swallowing his moans, before he broke the kiss and latched his mouth to a long elegant neck. Thundercracker mewled at the loss, his shaking knees knocking Megatron's like they were going to give out and he would slip to the mud at their feet. Megatron adjusted his grip on him, slapping his rough, dirty hands to Thundercracker's hips, and sinking his teeth into a neck cable. 

"Megatron-!" He began. 

But there was no time for words. Megatron kissed down his neck until he reached his shoulder, then leaned over it to snap at a flicking wing, just out of reach. Thundercracker cried in surprise, his optic's flashing yellow and his wings slapping back and hitting the tree. 

"Megatron!" He sounded utterly scandalised. 

He didn't push him away though. The fingers splayed across Megatron's chest had slipped into the seams of his chest plate where they clung to him needfully and his frame, trapped between the tree and Megatron's own battle-ready body, was surging with eager warmth. 

The panel between Megatron's hips felt tight and hot, but he couldn't slow to savour it. He needed Thundercracker now, here, whichever way he could, uncaring of the weather and his stained hands and the potential audience of seekers peaking out at them between the surrounding trees. 

He slipped his hand around to paw at Thundercracker's smooth inner thigh, just above the knee. He hitched it up so Thundercracker was balancing on just one foot, and turned it to the side. The obscene position it put him in made heat bloom across Thundercracker's cheeks. Megatron claimed him in another kiss, and a second, then a third, this time with Thundercracker's hands lifting to cup the sides of his face and hold him, weathering Megatron's undignified, beastly passion with all the grace and composure of the noblest of seekers. 

Megatron tilted his hips forward and let his spike emerge against Thundercracker's panel, rocking it back and forth until he felt that bothersome panel retract and gift him with the soft warmth of the puffy valve underneath. He rocked harsher, desperate for him. 

Thundercracker wobbled in his tip-toes and his breath hitched when the tip of Megatron's spike caught the rim of his valve. It was wet and phenomenally hot. Megatron abandoned his grip on Thundercracker's thigh and grasped his aft instead, pulling it aside to open up Thundercracker's valve. He wriggled his hips until he felt the clenching entrance, then rolled forwards. 

He purred, inflated with his own sense of victory for the second time that cycle as he was enveloped in tight, clenching heat. Thundercracker surged against him with a sharp gasp, his back scraping the tree. Megatron hitched him higher, tightening his hands around slender thighs, and tilted his helm back to take Thundercracker in, snapping his hips up in short, fast little pumps. He watched in satisfaction as Thundercracker's optics shuttered and his cheeks glowed. 

Thundercracker gripped his shoulders and let his head hit the tree trunk. He took every fast, driving stroke of Megatron's spike with appreciative shouts of delight. His wings were stiff and pointing straight upward, and his frame tense with an impending overload. Megatron grit his denta and started slamming his spike into him, faster and faster, hands tight enough on Thundecracker's thighs to leave terrible dents he would only mourn having made in his brutality later. 

Thundercracker didn't seem to care or realise. His optics were streaming with coolant, mingling with the rainwater falling across his face. He opened his mouth wide and cried out with overload, his thighs locking around Megatron's waist, muddied thruster heels digging into the small of his back, urging him deeper and closer. 

Megatron overloaded too, feeling every bit like the snarling, hedonistic beast he was acting. He slowed his hips as both pleasure and ferocity began to ebb, his racing processor slowing and his powerful limbs loosening. The rush in his fuel pump began to quiet and he could hear his own vents again. His, and Thundercracker's harsh panting breaths. 

He nuzzled the seeker's neck apologetically, nosing at warm throat cabling with a gentility he hoped would make up for his earlier rough handling. 

Thundercracker clung to him still, though that might have been because his legs didn't have the strength to take his weight yet. 

"Were you injured?" Thundercracker asked softly, his hands sliding over his shoulder and stroking the back of his neck. 

Megatron was confused for a moment. How could he possibly be the injured party when he had all but slammed Thundercracker against a tree and-

"The Insecticon." Thundercracker elaborated. 

Megatron lifted his face from the safety of Thundercracker's warm neck to look back. The seekers' attacker lay offline and ruined, half sunken in the mud, and inconsequential. "No," he murmured, a sense of calm washing over him now that he knew the threat had been dealt with and his seeker- _seekers_ , he noted, catching glimpses of wings poking out behind trees- were safe. 

He began to let Thundercracker down, and gingerly his mate took his own weight. His thrusters sunk into the mud with a disgusting squelch. "Urgh," he sneered, pulling one foot free to try and shake some of it off. 

"Here," Megatron swept him up like a bride, smirking at Thundercracker's shocked blink. "I will carry you." 

Thundercracker kicked his muddied feet lightly. "I would call you a gentleman." He smiled, "but-" 

He looked pointedly at the tree. 

Megatron kept his helm unapologetically high, "I don't recall hearing any complaints. Only wanton _moans_." 

Thundercracker slapped his chest lightly but settled his head against his shoulder. "Just don't carry me all the way back to base," he advised. "The others will be jealous." 

Having just watched their leader 'face Thundercracker out in the open against a tree, the 'others' would likely already be jealous. Megatron elected not to point such a fact out, lest Thundercracker insist he put him down sooner. 

He rather enjoyed the feel of him in his arms. 


	10. Wrong Ways

There were wrong ways to interface, apparently.

In Thundercracker's sensitive little head there were at least. 

Megatron had never realised. He had always just assumed that a 'face was a 'face whichever way it happened. Surely, all interfacing was correct when it was enjoyed and consented to by all the relevant parties. He had never considered himself to have particularly outlandish, or even colourful views on the matter, but one look at the mixed horror and scandal on Thundercracker's luminous pink face told him otherwise. 

"From behind?!" He yelled, louder than Megatron would have liked when the standard bulkheads of living quarters lacked adequate soundproofing. " _Why_?"

Why? Megatron hadn't really considered why. He simply wanted to. 

His hands still hovered where they had reached for Thundercracker's hips to roll the seeker over. "To reach your wings," he said simply, rather taken aback at Thundercracker's extreme reaction to being asked to go on all fours. 

"I'll be deeper inside you, reach that spot you like..." he added, hoping to ease his delicately principled partner into the idea. 

Thundercracker didn't look at all 'eased'. His thighs were pinned together tightly, like he half expected Megatron to somehow wriggle his way between them and do the convincing not with words but with pleasure. Which, to be fair, was plan b. 

"Can't we just do it like normal mecha?" He said, tone bordering on whining. 

Megatron resisted the urge to tell naive, foolish Thundercracker that most 'normal mechs' were actually far more adventurous in their choices of positions than simply defaulting to the missionary position every night. Megatron kept himself up thinking most nights, wondering how he was going to have break the news to Thundercracker that filthy 'taboo's' such a spike sucking were actually widely practiced in this day and age, and how he'd react to such information. He'd likely combust. 

It was just Megatron's luck to have fallen in with a mecha still stuck in the dark ages of sexual shaming. 

"What is it with you seekers and getting down on your knees?" He breathed out an exasperated sigh. "It is normal. In fact, it's far more natural a position to assume than lying on your back." 

Thundercracker squinted at him, "I think you're lying..." 

"Does it matter when the only reasons you're sabotaging your own sexual gratification are because of the made-up social conventions that dictate a right and wrong way to receive a spike?" Megatron huffed. 

Thundercracker was stubbornly resolute though, "At least when we're looking at each other we're still a little bit civilised. Letting you take me like - like _that_? It'll feel like we're ...beasts!" 

"Thundercracker," Megatron took his narrow jaw between his thumb and forefinger gently, tilting his helm up so he would meet his gaze. "There is absolutely nothing civilised about the way we 'face, no matter how dignified and proper you imagine you're being." 

Thundercracker's face could have guided a space-cruiser into orbit it was so bright. He turned his face out of Megatron's grip. "All the more reason not to." 

Megatron rolled his optics, already jumping to plan b. "Come here then." He took Thundercracker's hips again, and instead of rolling him into his front, dragged him to lie beneath him, thighs fell open instinctively, granting him an opening. "We'll do it your way."

He kissed and caressed Thundercracker, his fingers dipping into all the right seams and spots. Before long he was sliding his spike into a rim of tight, rippling mesh, and Thundercracker was arching into his thrusts like a writhing snake, as much like the beast he feared Megatron's corrupt influence would make him. 

Had already made him. 

Megatron kept the pace brutally slow, the languid rolls of his hips designed to chip away at Thundercracker's patience, bit by bit, until every last iota of sensibility had been knocked from his pretty little head. He waited until Thundercracker was clawing at his back, careless in his need, his thighs pressing against his sides and his thrusters kicking at the berth. 

Megatron drew back and pulled his spike back until just the tip rested inside. Thundercracker thrashed in need, his lust drowning him, his usually high capacity for disgust now at an all time low. If he didn't let his principles slip now, he might not ever.

"Roll over," Megatron said, hands resting on full hips, ready to flip him. 

Thundercracker bit his plush bottom lip. "Megatron, please," Thundercracker whined. 

"On you knees." 

Thundercracker squirmed, shuttered his optics in mortification, then turned onto his side, a half surrender. Megatron rolled him the rest of the way in a beat, his spike slipping from his valve but reentering swiftly after he'd hoisted Thundercracker up onto his knees. His hip plating tapped Thundercracker's aft, his spike as deep as it would go. Thundercracker howled, thighs quivering, rolling back on the heels of his hands into his thrusts. 

Megatron leant over his back and gripped the top edges of his wings, using them to haul him back onto his spike. 

Thundercracker dropped his head to the berth, his back bowed with his aft up and bouncing back against Megatron's hips. He stiffened with a muffled whine and lubricant tracked down thighs in little streams that dampened the berth around his knees. 

Megatron looked around to see he was muffling his cries with a fist in his mouth. He went faster, harder, until overload rocketed through him and threatened to knock him into stasis. He thrust wildly, the edges of his vision darkening, and when the glorious feeling of ecstasy began to fade, all he could do was slump across Thundercracker's back strutlessly. 

Thundercracker collapsed under his weight with an 'oof!' but Megatron could barely lift his head.

There was silence for some time, nothing but roaring vents and the ping of cooling armour. Then Thundercracker stirred. 

"...I- I suppose doing it that way once and while won't be so bad," Thundercracker's voice was muffled by the berth covers. 

Megatron smirked against a wing. "I had a feeling you would come around," he said warmly. 

He felt Thundercracker shift under him. 

"You felt different. From that angle," he continued, sentences stifled and in a tone that implied he was more than a little uncomfortable with the subject matter. He might not have been speaking about it at all had he actually had to look Megatron in the optic. "Are there any other ...positions?" 

A grin spread across Megatron's drowsy face. "I can think of a few." 


	11. Heat

A hud warning popped up, an insistent, repetitive flash of red behind his optics beamed directly into his processor. It drew Thundercracker out of a sound recharge. He stirred in displeasure, barely registering the warning: **Overheat; imminent**.   
  
He certainly didn't feel hot. He shivered with a chill, scrambling to draw the covers tighter about him. An unusual pressure had settled low in the pit of his tank. He rolled onto his front and gathered the covers between his legs. It felt better to have something there, something to press his hips up against.   
  
His vents become laboured as his internal temperature gauge continued to climb, the warnings now popping up faster than he could dismiss them. He began to rock his hips forward, grinding himself against the soft, unsatisfying bundle of fabric. When his aft pushed back and hit something hard.   
  
Megatron grunted in his audial, rousing from his recharge, most likely disturbed by the fidgeting and whining of his berth mate. And the indignity of having had all his covers stolen. Megatron met his gaze sleepily, rolling onto his side towards him.   
  
Muddled and disorientated, Thundercracker shuffled away, grip lightning on the sheets possessively, his legs clamping around them. The fabric began to feel damp against the insides of his thighs, and that was how he knew his panel had come away. He was lubricating heavily.   
  
"What's happening?" he mumbled, even as he flicked his wings out of Megatron's grasp. They were sensitive, Megatron's fingers like graters along their edges.   
  
"You've gone into heat," Megatron responded sleepily, but confidently.   
  
Thundercracker felt the covers begin to slip out of his grasp. He scrambled for them, but Megatron pressed him flat to the berth with one big hand on the centre of his cockpit. _That_ was sensitive too, and he relinquished the sheets so he could sink his claws into the seams of Megatron's large black hands with a growl.   
  
He might as well have been a glitch-kitten clawing at Megatron's hand. The stronger mech didn't react beyond a smugly raised brow. Thundercracker felt cold wash over him again when the covers were swept away completely, discarded carelessly off the edge of the berth.   
  
But then Megatron was climbing over him, warm and heavy and vibrating with the steady hum of his engines. Thundercracker flung his arms around him and buried in, soaking In his warmth. Megatron shifted his weight onto his hands and knees above Thundercracker, then reached to touch between his thighs.   
  
Thundercracker pressed them together around Megatron's wrist, clenching his internals when a finger pressed into him.   
  
He hissed, the penetration not agreeing with the pressure at the base of his tanks. "It's sensitive-!"  
  
Megatron murmured softly, crooning some nonsense about things being natural and taking care of him. He didn't remove his finger, and began to rub his thumb in circles against Thundercracker's anterior node.   
  
It _stung_. Thundercracker yelped, a noise he'd be mortified to have made when this was all over. Megatron's thumb came away instantly. "Too senstive?"   
  
Hadn't he _just_ said that?!   
  
He nodded. "Everything is," he complained.   
  
Megatron's mouth fell to his neck and began to kiss up the cables. Thundercracker tilted his helm back and bit down on his tongue to muffle his moans. Despite his discomfort, despite his desire to do nothing but roll over, cocoon himself in the sheets, and ride this entire ordeal out with a pillow between his legs, he began to move into Megatron's touches.   
  
With some trial and error they found not every armour panel across his wings were too sensitive to touch. Megatron's mouth latched around the tip of one wing and suckled on it lightly, two fingers now moving in and out of Thundercracker's abnormally slick valve. In the quiet of the room, between his panting vents and reoccurring whines, he could hear how slick. Hear the obscene sound of Megatron's fingers pushing slowly in and out of him. He clenched down on them again with a whimper, and with an approving hum, Megatron withdrew his fingers and replaced them with the blunt tip of his spike.   
  
The spike felt hot against the rim of his valve. It was leaking a lubricating pre-fluid that felt hotter than his own lubricants. He gripped Megatron's forearms and tipped his hips up to improve the angle. Megatron rolled forwards. The tip of his spike bumped Thundercracker's rim but slipped to the side when he tensed.   
  
Megatron murmured something about relaxing, taking his spike in hand and correcting it, pushing it past Thundercracker's entrance this time.   
  
Stars burst before Thundercracker's optics as a fulfilling sense of pleasure washed over him. The awful feeling in his tank began to recede as Megatron pressed his full length into him, filling him up, replacing the pressure of unhappy tanks with a pressure of a whole other sort. He whined, letting his claws cut into Megatron's vambrace armour, rolling into the drag of Megatron's spike sliding in and out, in and out.   
  
Megatron's dropped down to his forearms and nipped at his neck. Thundercracker moaned and held into his broad shoulders instead, arching his back to get more of the pleasant scrape of Megatron's iron-hard abdomen against his sensitive cockpit. The glass would be ruined tomorrow, he thought as he listened to the screech of metal on glass. But who gave a damn.  
  
Megatron began fragging him faster, and the repeated stabs of pleasure drove Thundercracker easily over the edge. He moaned through Megatron's continued pumping, the sharp rhythm of his partner's movements causing the volume of his moan to rise and then fall with every inward stroke.   
  
Lubricant gushed out of him and soaked the berth, his thighs, Megatron's pelvis, and with one last grunt- Megatron snorting out of his olfactory like a turbo-bull about to charge, Thundercracker felt liquid heat spray from the tip of Megatron's spike and warm his internals in pulses.   
  
The warmth seemed to spread through him like a fire, and the external chill he had felt earlier began to recede. He was now _too hot_ , his systems still warning him of potential overheating. And Megatron was still on top of him, cradling him, wafting _humidity_ over him.   
  
"Ge'off," he grumbled.   
  
"Charming," Megatron purred, lips tickling Thundercracker's neck. "A heat cycle can last some time-"  
  
Short on patience and unbearably hot, Thundercracker lifted a leg, used his impressive flexibility to press his heel against Megatron's shoulder, and kicked him off. Megatron fell back onto his aft in amused surprise.   
  
"I take it you're not interested in my postcoital affection?"   
  
Thundercracker reached behind his head for a pillow and flung it at Megatron. The larger mech ducked, much to his annoyance. But moving wasn't doing anything for his attempts at cooling down either, so flopped on his back with his limbs spreadeagled, desperate to cool off.   
  
"What a vision." He heard Megatron from the berth's end.   
  
Belatedly realising his valve was still on display -and undoubtedly a mess- Thundercracker snapped the cover shut in a beat.   
  
Megatron didn't seem to mind his standoffish temperament. Likely because the older mech knew all too well this heat wasn't over, and that he'd be back beneath that panel many more times before the night was over.   
  
"You're a fragging jerk," Thundercracker whined between moans less than an hour later, on his knees, chest down, claws shredding the covers, and aft in the air. "You're the most - _ungh_ \- most unsympathetic jerk anyone could ever - have the misfortune to - _Primus_!"  
  
A dark chuckle sounded behind him, Megatron barely out of breath. "You'll thank me in the morning."   
  
Morning was hours away yet. At least, (despite his complaints) Thundercracker hoped it was. 


	12. Back Up Plan

Megatron looked down at Thundercracker's wretched little valve with a mingle of arousal and sympathy. The once tight ring of mesh was gaping and loose. Megatron could see the fluids leaking out of it and dripping down dark aft plating to the berth below. 

Thundercracker himself was laying back with an arm thrown over his face, covering his optics. His cheeks were blooming pink and his mouth hung open and panting, his lips plush and damp from what had felt like hours kissing. 

"Are you done?" Megatron asked, half-hard spike hoping for a 'no'." 

Thundercracker lifted his arm away and blinked dazedly. Megatron saw his valve twitch between his legs, too weak to clench properly shut. Transfluid welled at the rim and dripped out of him. 

"My valve is," he breathed, deep voice warm and sleepy. "I don't know if you'd get anymore out of it. I know you grounders like to think of us as otherworldly frag machines, but we don't just spring back. At least, not after something like that." 

He gestured to the now unsubtly stiff spike standing upright from Megatron's pelvis, more than ready for another round. 

Megatron considered Thundecracker for a moment. There were other ways for him to get his due. Thundercracker's mouth being one of them. Unfortunately, there was a size disparity and he was large anyway. Thundercracker struggled to fit less than half of his length into his mouth, and Megatron was in the mood for something much ...deeper than that. 

He gripped Thundercracker's thighs and stroked his palms over the smooth metal. When he reached their apex he stroked the petals of Thundercracker's slick valve softly. Loose and fragged-out the seeker may be, but he still responded happily to the touch, lifting his hips up a fraction. 

Megatron slid his hand over Thundercracker's hip and under, and cupped his shapely aft. 

"Really?" Thundercracker arched a brow, catching on quickly. 

Megatron flashed him a lecherous grin, letting his fingers tap lightly over the seam for the rear port panel. "I can be gentle." 

"No you can't," Thundercracker scoffed, but began to shift over onto his front anyway, laying flat on his cockpit with his legs open generously. "You never are."

True, but he could always try. 

Megatron walked on his knees between Thundercracker's spread thighs, amused at the relaxed way the seeker rested his head on his folded arms and drifted his wings back and forth, like he was expecting a massage. To humour him Megatron ran his hands up and down his back and across his wings, settling him and ridding him of any unwanted nerves. He needed him to be relaxed. 

Thundercracker's armour loosened a fraction and seams widened. Megatron could read him like a book. 

He stroked over the rear panel with his fingers. It wasn't as easy to coax open as Thundercracker's valve panel was, but it did fold away eventually, revealing a tiny puckered hole beneath. Megatron stroked his thumb over it, feeling it clench beneath his sensor pad. Wings twitched and lifted to stand upright on Thundercracker's back, a sign that the seeker was on the alert, as if waiting for an attack. 

"Relax," Megatron grumbled, reaching for his valve just beneath the aft port, not just to stroke Thundercracker into a more accommodating state but to get his fingers good and wet too. He brought them back up to Thundercracker's hole and pressed aginst the port with his index finger. 

Thundercracker twitched, and after a brief clench, he relaxed. Megatron sank in to the knuckle. 

Working his port open took much longer than it would his valve, but Megatron didn't rush, and motivated himself through the motions of fingering and stretching and lubricating with thoughts on how tight and hot it would feel to push his spike inside him. 

The stiff array twitched at the promise of what was to come, and to relieve some of the aching pressure, Megatron leaned over Thundercracker and let his spike rub against the back of his smooth thigh. 

The deeper his fingers reached the more Thundercracker responded with soft little sighs and interested little twitches. When Megatron brushed one particular spot inside him, his entire frame convulsed. And it was at that point that he could resist no longer. 

He slicked up his fingers again and stroked them over his straining spike, ensuring it was wet and shining with lubricants, then shifted his weight onto hands braced either side of Thundercracker's shoulders. Wings lifted and brushed the side of his face. He gave the edge of one a kiss, before reaching for his spike and pushing it against his port. 

It didn't give way at first. He pushed. 

Thundercracker huffed and twitched away. Megatron shuffled forward on his knees to recover lost ground and pressed down on the centre of Thundercracker's back to keep him from moving. He tried pressing into him again, slowly, and it was almost unbearably tight. 

Thundercracker was no longer the picture of relaxed ease, hissing and tensing, his wings so stiff they were shaking. Megatron could feel him twitching and rippling around him, and after his tip popped past the rim, the natural suction of Thundercracker's port began to take him. 

He started to move, listening to Thundercracker's loud moans, moving faster as the tight clench of the port lining began to loosen into something that wouldn't cause him to rip Thundercracker in half should he be more passionate. 

Thundercracker began to howl, reminding Megatron -for one striking moment- of Starscream. He watched the dark blue wings beneath him, as they fluttered and twitched with every backwards stroke. Thundercracker began to sob, shouting so loudly his vocaliser caught and spat static nonsense, sharp to Megatron's audials. 

The berth was damp beneath his knees as a fresh wave of Thundercracker's valvular lubricant gushed free of his wrecked valve, his overload rocketing through him and tightening the grip his port had on Megatron's spike to such a pressure that his own overload was sucked out of him. He jabbed deep and shouted in surprise, the wavelike ripple of Thundercracker's internals milking the transfluid from his spike. He pushed deeper. His hip plating scrapped across Thundercracker's upturned aft as he ground against it, working his hips in desperate little circles. 

Thundercracker's wings had fallen flat against his back and he was face down on the berth, panting and shaking against the sheets. 

Megatron rocked once more before easing himself carefully out. A string of sticky fluid kept the tip of his spike connected to Thundercracker's loose port. Megatron let his spike bump the stretched rim one last time, drawing a groan out of Thundercracker. 

"I won't be able to sit for a week." 

Megatron patted his scuffed aft fondly. "Then spend the week on your back, preferably in my berth." 

Thundercracker snapped both pelvic panels shut in obvious annoyance. 


	13. Tight Spaces

A tunnel? A crevice? An abandoned well? An Autobot _trap_? Thundercracker didn't know what sort of bottomless pit he appeared to have fallen into, only that it went a long way down. And was uncomfortably tight. 

And _already occupied._

The circumference of the pit would have been tight enough with just the one Decepticon tossed into it, but between a busty seeker and a dense warlord, there was no room.

Thundercracker had plummeted down the unseen hole, his claws scrambling desperately at the rock walls to slow his descent to no avail. He would credit simple luck for having not landed directly on top of Megatron's head, but he wasn't feeling particularly lucky now, wedged between his massive leader's solid flat chassis and the rocky wall of the pit, his arms pinned against his sides and turbines firmly pinched against Megatron's armour. 

It had taken a moment for the dust to settle enough for Thundercracker to realise what had happened. And when it did, his cheeks bloomed furiously with colour.

He blinked at the warlord scowling an inch from the tip of his nose, tilting his helm back as far as he could get it so not to encroach any further into his leader's already invaded personal space. No matter which way he turned his face, his hot cheeks were still very much within range of Megatron's warm, heavy ex-vents.

Oh _Primus_...

"Sir," Thundercracker offered in lame greeting, struggling to suck sufficient air into his vents with how claustrophobic his current predicament was. 

Megatron's closeness was beyond intimate. The rise and fall of Megatron's powerful chest continually pressed Thundercracker tighter to the rock behind him, the knobs and buttons of his abdomen scratching and scraping at the glass of Thundercracker's cockpit. Megatron's solid steel thighs -threaded between Thundercracker's- kept shifting and flexing against Thundercracker's codpiece. 

A second, warmer flush washed over Thundercracker. He would be a lump of molten seeker befire this was over. 

"Can you move?" Megatron asked, shifting, and Thundercracker jumped with a suppressed yelp when he felt the foreign hand trapped against his hip brush his armour. 

"Er, well," Thundercracker wriggled, wincing as the movement scratched up his already ruined wings against the rock behind them. 

Arms trapped at his sides, and with Megatron stood so much taller than him and the widest part of both their frame's their chests, Thundercracker's pedes were only just grazing the floor, making it difficult for him to brace himself against anything but ...but Megatron himself. 

"I think so," he managed to squirm his hand out from his side, straining the joint on the limb to it's max. He braced it against Megatron's hip. 

Or what he'd _thought_ was his hip. 

Megatron grunted. Thundercracker jumped with a horrified gasp, snatching his hand away, so hot his optics were going to melt down his face. "Sorry-!" 

"Stop moving," Megatron hissed, and short on both patience and -apparently- _logic_ , grabbed Thundercracker's waist and shoved him upwards, into the even tighter space above. 

Thundercracker's wings scraped painfully against the rock as he was shunted up a few inches. It did nothing to help their predicament. With Megatron's chest now caught and stuck against the convex curve of Thundercracker's cockpit canopy, they were still wedged together, only now Thundercracker was hoovering a metre of the ground, his thighs spread about Megatron's waist. 

Thundercracker starting praying for a swift death. A avalanche maybe. Anything but this. 

"...I'm still stuck," Thundercracker informed him regretfully, horrifically flushed and now -to add to his shame- a little warm behind his panel. Which was now likely _radiating_ intimate heat where it was flushed to Megatron's pelvis. 

Why now?! Thundercracker wasn't even turned on! He _hated_ tight spaces. He _wasn't_ harbouring a desire for Megatron. And he _didn't_ have any weird fantasies that revolved around being unwilling thrust into embarrassingly intimate and inescapable situations with mechs he barely knew outside his professional duties! 

He remained stiff and unmoving with his legs spread around Megatron like a Praxian Hook-Up model, praying his leader wouldn't notice the warm press of his panel. 

Thankfully, Megatron gave no indication that he was aware of his subordinate's inappropriateness. He was looking down, studying the bottom of the pit at their pedes, his gaze calculative. He kicked his leg out, jostling Thundercracker, who bit down on his bottom lip to stop from whining at the pleasant tickle the movement created in his pelvic region. Megatron's foot met open space, which meant the hole was wider lower down. 

Megatron behind to shimmy down. 

"What are you doing?!" Thundercracker squawked, slapping his hand to Megatron's shoulder. 

Dark slits of crimson glared up. "There is more space below. I will crouch down and you will fly out-"

"Wait-!" Thundercracker licked his lips, spark drumming. It was a good plan, but Megatron moving any lower would put the warlord's nose in dangerous proximity with his panel, which he was positive, with all the wriggling and kicking about, was damp around the edges now. "I'll drop down." 

Megatron's optics narrowed, "I am already halfway there." 

Thundercracker swallowed, the ache in his valve rising. "...I'm smaller?" 

Megatron huffed, and began to straighten up, "Fine. Be quick about it." 

Thundercracker tugged his other arm free and lifted both over his head. He sucked in a breath and stretched his frame out to make himself slimmer, and gradually wriggled down. It was awkward coming face-to-face with Megatron's glaring visage again, and doubly so when Thundercracker managed to find room to bend his knees between Megatron's spread thighs only to lose his balance and bump his nose against the lower edge of Megatron's chassis. 

He exhaled and Megatron shifted as he steadied himself. But the worse was yet to come. 

He did his best to turn his head to the side, as far as his neck would allow, as he came level with Megatron's sizeable codpiece next. It was ... _large_. _Why_ was it so large? Did it _need_ to be that large? 

  
He brought his hands down to brace them against Megatron's powerful thighs, averting his gaze and squeezing the metal under his fingers for grip, terrified of losing his balance again and falling against **_it_** face first. He didn't dare look at it. 

He glanced up, and Megatron was peering down at him. 

Thundercracker's cheeks reignited. He lost his footing in his flustered state and dropped to the bottom of the pit onto his aft with a surprised huff, Megatron's codpiece was hovering just above him. 

Thundercracker quickly shielded his optics, "Uh, you can move now ...sir." 

Megatron grunted, offering no comment or thanks as he finally lifted his arms to the rock walls and braced hands and pedes against opposite sides as he began his climb. 

Thundercracker rubbed his cheeks to try and will the embarrassment away. 

"Thundercracker!" Megatron called down to him, already half way out, raining tiny rocks and dust down on Thundercracker still sat sullenly at the bottom. 

Thundercracker slapped his hot cheek to get himself together. "Coming, sir!" He called up. 

He was quicker to ascend than his leader, as a gentle burn of his thrusters had him floating up the tight tunnel in a matter of seconds, though still wincing and cursing when jagged rocky edges caught and scratched already damaged wings in the tighter parts of the tunnel. 

A large black hand was extended out to him at the top of the tunnel, an offer to help him up. Though he didn't need it, Thundercracker took it, his palm cringingly clammy as it slipped against Megatron's. 

They were covered in dirt and scratches from their fall, but standing up top, in the light of day, Thundercracker's blush would have been unmissable. 

Megatron met his gaze and Thundercracker had to look away, wishing his leader would just dismiss him so he could fly off with the tattered remains of his dignity. 

Megatron nodded curtly, "You kept a cool helm in there." 

Thundercracker didn't think that was true, but he wasn't going to argue. He wasn't an idiot, like Starscream. "Thank you," he mumbled, feeling foolish and immature. 

"For a seeker," Megatron added, sounding ...amused. 

Thundercracker snapped his gaze up, but Megatron was already walking away from him, the armour plates of his broad shoulders and strong back rolling mesmerisingly. Thundercracker's codpiece pulsed again. 

The blush that had yet to properly fade resurfaced with a molten vengeance.


End file.
